


Ice Queens

by write_your_way_out



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, F/F, Ice Skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-10-19 05:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_your_way_out/pseuds/write_your_way_out
Summary: Krista, a rising star in the figure skating community clashes in a chance meeting with Ymir, the daughter of the most aggressive reporter in the league. They met by luck, but it was choice that kept them together. Side by side, the duo must learn to navigate the world of professional sports, media, and traveling, all while struggling to understand their own feelings. Can they learn to manage it all, or will the pressure prove too much?





	1. Chance Encounter

Krista blinked away tears as the ground whirled beneath her. The bench under her was cold and unfamiliar. Signs and posters were written in blaring block letters, advertising in a language she couldn’t understand. Her fingers shook as she untied the laces of her skates. The frigid air of the ice rink hit her feet with a frosty vengeance. Her toes curled up. 

The changing room was dead silent. She was the only one left in the cold locker room, unzipping her skating costume and pulling her warm-ups on instead. The loose fitted fabric of her sweats was a stark contrast to the stretching, elastic fabric of her dress that pinched and pulled at her skin. She shook her hair loose from the elaborate updo. Gold glitter sprinkled to the floor as the curls sprung free. 

“Krista? Are you almost ready?” The door to the locker room opened a crack. The voice of her coach, Drake Drain, pulled her out of her slump.

“Just a second.” She covered her skates’ blades and pulled her dress into the protective wrapping. It all folded soundly in her duffle bag. She slung the black bag over her shoulder and paused to check her reflection in the mirror on her way out. The rims of red around her eyes weren’t too bad. Her pupils were glassy, and a few wet streaks stained her cheeks, but it was nothing too bad. She wiped her nose one more time before opening the door.

Coach Drain was none too pleased. By his natural stature, he towered over Krista; This in itself wasn’t a feat, since she was quite short, but with his arms folded over his chest and disappointed glare, he had intimidation down to a science. His blue jacket was unzipped over his Team USA shirt. “We’ll talk about this at the hotel,” was all he said. Somehow, it made her heart sink even lower.

A fresh batch of tears spilled over the edge of her eyes. She wiped them away before he saw. It wasn’t the Coach couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be compassionate. Normally he was kind to her. Even now, he hadn’t raised his voice, but the intensity was there. Krista had let him down. He didn’t expect the world from her, but she had failed every expectation he had tonight.

As the yellow lights of the stadium beat down, Krista thought back to only minutes earlier. Figure skating was a sport that not only required physical and mental strength, but grace and beauty. Without an elegant execution, jumps and spins meant nothing. She’d thought she’d been ready. All but begging Coach to let her try out new jumps in the competition tonight, she was sure she could do it. 

Krista could nail most triples without a problem. Quads...those were difficult for her. Classified by the number of rotations in the spin, quadruples were the hardest to learn. Yet she was so sure she could pull one off tonight, that she’d done one even after Coach had told her explicitly not to. It was a gamble, but Krista was sure it would pay off.

It hadn’t. 

The freezing ice still chilled her hands. The quad salchow had left her flat on her face. It was a total wipeout. She was lucky she hadn’t been hurt, though part of her palm had been skinned in the landing. The scores didn’t look down upon falls with a smile. 

Prior to tonight’s Free Skate, Krista was in first place. Her Short Program had gone off without a hitch. As one of the older competitors in the Junior League, Krista had one advantage over her younger competition: Experience. She’d had more time to practice her jumps. She had more moves under her belt. Everything except quads.

The stadium tile passed by in white blobs. Krista tugged her warmup jacket to hug her waist. Disappointment radiated from her coach, reporters, and fans alike as they passed by. Cameras flashed in shocking white lights and the hum of voices hooked up to mics shattered the silence of the locker room. “I chose to forego interviews.” Coach Drain whispered. “Right now isn’t the time you need to be in public’s eye.”

Krista nodded mutely. If she could make it back to the hotel room in one piece, she could clear her head and examine what went wrong with the jump. Sure, it had been against Coach’s wishes, but Krista knew she had it in her to do it correctly. If she practiced hard enough, learned from her mistakes, Coach would have to let her choreograph the quad salchow into her routine. He claimed they were fine where they were. That her routine was good enough, had enough points, and that all that mattered was a clean execution. But the competition was getting better. If Krista wanted to stay on top and have a shot of qualifying for the Grand Prix, she had to rise to the challenge. 

“Krista!” A booming voice shook her out of her mind. A reporter the size of a small boulder blocked her path. She recognized him: ESPN reporter Mike Cent. He had a kind face and warm smile, but he could viciously tear a story out of anyone. He’d been assigned to the Junior League for about a year now. Krista ran into him from time to time, though she’d never had the curse of being on the receiving end of his questions. 

Behind Mike, a cameraman hoisted the device onto his shoulder. In a blue suit and navy tie, Mike was already camera ready. “We aren’t taking questions at the moment.” Coach Drain tried to block him, but Mike had at least three inches and twenty pounds on him. He side stepped and forced a microphone into Krista’s face.

“Man, that was quite the wipeout. What happened out there?” 

Krista stepped back. She was never comfortable with reporters that got in her personal space, and Mike was one of the most intimidating ones she’d ever seen. She sealed her lips.

“Why did you make the last minute change to the quad salchow?” Mike pressed.

“Leave her alone,” Coach stepped between them, but Mike had none of it.

“Still need your coach to protect you? You’re sixteen now, nearing on the big league. When are you going to learn to answer questions for yourself?”

Krista clenched her fists. Did this dude not get the message? “I made a mistake and let my fans down. I apologize for that.”

Mike laughed. “That’s all you’ve got to say?” He leered. His posture bent over, mocking her. “Give us the good stuff! Rumor has it you went against your coaches wishes. What’re you gonna say about that?”

“Coach Drain and I will continue working to make sure my programs are the strongest they can be.”

Mike snorted. “Come on, Krista, darling. Give us something meaty!” 

“If you want meaty, try looking in the mirror. You’ve put on enough weight in the past month, you wouldn’t see a good news story if it landed at your feet.” A sudden voice interrupted Mike’s tangent. 

Krista did a double take. Sure, competitors got snappy, but roasting a newscaster like that was a sure way to get yourself in trouble. Rather than act offended though, Mike turned around with a smile on his face. “Is that how I raised you?” He asked good-naturedly. 

“Nope. I spent half my childhood with Mom, remember? You’ve beat Krista well enough. Go play bloodhound with someone else.” Mike stepped aside with the shake of his head and the figure became visible.

“Sorry about him. He gets too intense for his own good sometimes. I’m Ymir. We haven’t met.” She had the same rough smirk and confident posture as her father, but that was where the similarities ended. Ymir was shorter than Mike, roughly five foot six. She was lankier than he was, though Krista could see a hint of muscles through her tee shirt. Her skin was darker, a warm brown, and the bridge of her nose and cheeks were covered in freckles. Dark brown hair floated freely around her face, though it’d been cut short. 

“It’s fine,” Krista managed. Her coach looked ready to explode. She was for sure in for a lecture later that night about how to manage the press.

“I’ve seen you skate. You’re pretty good.” Ymir sized her up. She refrained from commenting about tonight’s notable exception, and Krista breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thanks.”

“Here,” Ymir tore off a piece of paper from a notebook she’d hidden in her waistband. She scribbled a few numbers on it. “I’m traveling with my dad for the next few contests. If we ever cross paths again, we should totally hang out.”

The paper pressed into Krista’s palm, and before she could respond, Ymir vanished, returning to her father’s shadow. She stuffed the paper into her pocket and tried to ignore Coach Drain’s wilting gaze. “I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen. Right now, I have a rebellious student to deal with.”


	2. New Beginnings

**Later that night.**

Coach Drain closed the door behind him, leaving Krista alone in her hotel room. He’d advised her not to watch the news- especially sports news- and to stay off of social media, but it was barely ten at night, and she was hyped up on enough nervous energy to wire her for the next day. She sat back in her bed, the pillows cushioning her. The room was nothing grand. Coach Drain stayed in his own suit, so Krista had a one-person room. Her bed was queen sized, but the rest of the furniture was miniature. A balcony looked out over the cityscape, and the open windows let in fresh air. 

The TV remote tempted her. Between ESPN and YouTube, Krista could definitely find a way to rewatch her performance that night. If she saw it, maybe she could figure out what went wrong. Her hand hovered over the buttons. Coach Drain was already disappointed in her. What if he found out about this too? 

Krista reached for her phone. Coach said to stay off of social media, but surely she could text people, right? A few missed messages from friends popped up on the screen. Nothing from her parents. Of course not. Half the reason they let her compete around the world was so she was out of their hair. She opened up her messaging app. The newest added contact shone at the top. 

She flipped the phone back and forth between her hands as she contemplated what to say. Should she even text at all? People warned her about stranger danger all the time, but was Ymir a stranger? She tapped on three keys and hit send. 

_Hey._

She flopped back. The room lapsed into silence as second after second passed by. One minute without a response. Two. Did she say something wrong? She hadn’t introduced herself. Maybe Ymir had forgotten all about her. Krista huffed. Why did she care so much? It wasn’t like she didn’t have other friends to talk to. She decided she wanted to thank Ymir again, at the very least. 

Three minutes. Ymir must be busy with something else. Krista reached for the remote. Her phone screen lit up, the lock screen glowing. The photo was nothing grand; A picture of Krista and her former rink mate Sasha holding up their medals with matching grins. Sasha has graduated into the Senior Division this year, leaving Krista alone. On top of the backdrop, a text message scrolled across the screen.

_Hey, Ice Queen._

Ymir. Krista read the message twice before responding. 

_Thanks for earlier._

_Don’t worry about it. You had it under control, but sometimes Dad needs a push._

Krista laughed. A question sparked in her mind. 

_How come I’ve never seen you before?_

_What, is my face so ugly you’d forget?_

_That’s not what I meant!_ Krista typed as fast as she could, trying to backtrack her error. Before she could send the apology, Ymir sent:

_I know, I know! I’m kidding, Ice Queen._

_Ice Queen?_

_What, not the kind of person to enjoy nicknames?_

The memory of her failure flashed before her eyes. The way the ice crashed against her skin, the hushed gasp of the audience, the drop in her score haunted her. With a grimace she replied:

_I’m hardly a Queen._

_You’ll get there someday. Is your coach still ticked at you?_

_I got a lecture the size of the Grand Canyon. He just left._

_Think he’d notice if you snuck out?_

His room was on an entirely different level. He’d have no way of knowing if she was in her room unless he checked on her in the middle of the night. Coach didn’t carry a key to her room, though. It was one responsibility he left up to her. 

_I doubt he'd notice._ Krista typed back. _Why?_

The dots next to Ymir's name flashed as she typed. Krista couldn't help but feel nervous. What did Ymir have up her sleeve?

_I want to get to know you more. I know a shop down the street from the hotel that does an amazing boba tea. It's open until one in the morning, too._

_How do you know which hotel I’m staying at?_

Krista felt a flicker of doubt in her stomach. Was Ymir some sort of crazy fan?

_Because my dad is staying at that one too. He stays in the same hotel as the competitors, in hopes he can get a few extra minutes for an interview. Since I'm his daughter, I have to stay with him._

Krista considered the offer. She had plenty of money, the reward for her third place win was more than enough to spare a cup of boba tea. She wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. Her heart was beating too fast for rest. 

_Okay._

She climbed out of bed and took a look at herself in the mirror. She hadn't changed out of her warmups. That was probably a problem. She should wear street clothes. While Ymir responded, Krista pulled on a tee shirt and jeans. Her hair still had glitter in it from her skate, and the elaborate makeup hadn't been washed off yet. 

_Meet me in the lobby in two minutes._

The buzz of her phone shook Krista from her thoughts. There wouldn't be time to rinse off her makeup and reapply it. She might as well just wear the stuff she had on now. Maybe the passerby would think she was coming back from a music festival. 

Krista stuck her room key in her pocket and stuffed her wallet into her purse. 

_On my way._

By the time the elevator stopped on her floor, two minutes had passed by. Krista stepped out into the lobby. Ymir sat on a cushioned chair, looking out the window with a bored look on her face. Few people could come to Barcelona and not be impressed by what they saw. Ymir didn't seem to care for the sights, though. In her hand she held a cup of the hotel coffee, almost empty. Her short hair fell around her ears in soft tufts. 

"Hey." Krista sat down across from her. Ymir looked up and smiled. 

"Hey, Ice Queen." She held out the rest of her coffee. "Want some?"

"I'm fine." Krista pulled her purse straps tighter across her body. Ymir's father wasn't around. "Does your dad know you're here?"

Ymir waved a dismissive hand. "He doesn't know, and I doubt he'd care."

"Don't you share the hotel room, though? Won't he notice you're gone?"

Ymir shrugged. "He ran off in a fit. Something about a news story. Probably just chatter, but he had to check it out for himself. He won't be back until early morning. Happens all the time."

"He just...leaves?" Even to Krista, whose parents had all but abandoned her to Coach Drain's care, that seemed harsh. Bring your daughter with you to a sporting event halfway across the world and then ditch her in a city she knew nothing about? At least Krista had her coach.

 

"I'm used to it," Ymir brushed off her concern. "It's why I lived with my mom for so long." A wicked grin spread across her face. She looked almost evil with the light hitting her face. "Besides, When he leaves me alone, I get to do fun things like this."

"What a rebel," Krista said. Ymir did a double take. 

"Don't call me that! Me? A bad influence?" Ymir feigned shock. She snorted and shook her head. "Come on, we wanna get a good spot at the tea shop."

Krista hopped off of her stool and followed Ymir to the exit. "If you've never been to Barcelona before, how did you know about the boba place?" 

"Dad mentioned it. He comes here at least once a year for work, so he knows the places really well." 

The Barcelona scenery stretched out before them. It was simultaneously crowded and empty. Krista guessed that was what happened to cities when the clock struck midnight. 

"I've always wondered something about you skaters," Ymir started. Krista looked up at her. Ymir had at least a head's height on her, probably more. "That makeup, do you do that yourself?"

"I do mine," Krista said. Her fingers brushed over the glittery shadows on her eyes. The silver, black, and white created a sharp contrast. It was definitely not a daily makeup look. "But some skaters, the ones that are really good, have makeup artists to do it."

"That's impressive." Ymir tapped her chin. "I don't bother enough with makeup to even imagine that."

"You don't need it," The words slipped out of Krista's mouth. She blushed. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

"Don't apologize!" Ymir snapped. "I hate it when people apologize for nothing.” She picked up her pace and Krista had to jog to keep up. "You have nothing to be sorry for. All you did was tell me I was pretty."

Krista hunched her shoulders over. It was cold in the night breeze. Barcelona was light up by lights of buildings and cars, but they did nothing to provide heat. That was one thing Krista had always hated about big cities, you had to walk everywhere you went if you didn't want to take the subway. It was fine in summer or daytime, but at times like this, it was cold and lonely. 

Not lonely anymore though. Not with Ymir standing next to her. 

"We're here." Ymir paused in front of large double doors. The glass was polished and clean and the handles were painted gold. Inside, dim lighting illuminated the restaurant. It wasn't so bright that it burned her eyes and it blended in nicely with the rest of the city. "After you," Ymir held open the floor and Krista stepped inside. The restaurant was seat yourself, and had several different options, from tables, to bar seats, to seats at the windows that overlooked the street. She crawled onto a barstool. Ymir sat down next to her.

“You travel a lot for your competitions, don't you?"

 

"Yeah, I travel a lot."

"What's your favorite place?" Ymir asked. As Krista considered it, the waitress came over to take their order. Ymir ordered a strawberry bubble tea. 

"Oh, I don't know what flavor I want. What do you recommend?" Ymir grinned. 

"I bet you'd like mango." 

Krista placed the order and the waitress scuttled away. She turned to look out at the street. The traffic light flashed green and red, with an occasional yellow passing between them. Pedestrians scuttled to and fro on their feet, or bikes. Krista swore she saw someone wearing heelies. The sky was black, with an occasional gray cloud blocking the moon. 

"I do like Barcelona." She admitted. "But nothing compares to home." 

"Where do you call home?" Ymir looked at the street, following her gaze. "Is it a city like this?"

"No. It's fairly small. I lived in America before I had to relocate for training."

"What state?"

"I lived in Kansas," Krista admitted. She'd always felt slightly ashamed of her hometown. Kansas was one of the lesser known states. It had no grand cities or claims to fame. Just a lot of farmland. "But Coach Drain offered to teach me. I had to move to New York after that."

"Which do you like better?" 

"They're both great. I miss having my family around though," Krista admitted. "I doubt they miss me. They were all too happy to send me off to New York."

"Do they watch your competitions?"

"I doubt they have time. They both work as CEOs. If they have time for me, they don't show it."

The waitress returned with their tea. "Have you ever had boba before?" Ymir asked. 

Krista sucked in a pile of the tapioca pearls. "A few times. I wouldn't normally get it, but it's a fun treat."

Ymir drank from her strawberry tea. 

Krista watched her motions intently. There was something about Ymir that intrigued her. Ymir had no ulterior motive for anything she said. Krista felt like she could always be honest and open with her. Neither of them had a need to filter their words. As someone who had cameras following them half the time and had to be careful of what they said, Krista found it refreshing. 

Ymir's face was covered in freckles. She'd noticed it when they first met, but up close they were even more noticeable. They coated her nose and cheeks. Krista wondered if they made any patterns. "Hmm?" Ymir glanced up and caught her staring. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No." Krista dropped her gaze. "I was just looking at your hair. It's very pretty." 

Ymir sat up straighter, touching the locks with one hand. A surprised look flashed between her eyes. "Oh, thanks." 

"Have you always worn it short?" 

Ymir laughed. "No. I actually just got it cut a few months ago. My mom hates it when girls wear short hair, which is so stupid. She had a lot of rules like that. No short hair, no excessive makeup, no going out after six PM, and a ton of other stuff. I got sick of it, you know?" 

Krista could relate. Coach Drain, for all he had taught her, had his own rules that she was tired of. Be nice to the press, smile for the camera, do what coach says. Don't take any risks, be a good girl, and get the best score. "You cut it off to make her mad?"

Ymir grinned. “Exactly. When I came home that night, after six, mind you, she was ticked. We fought about it all the time, but there was nothing she could do about it, you know? It was already cut off."

"What happened after that?"

"I started asking to travel with Dad. Sure, we move around a lot, and he can't always be around, but I'd prefer that over Mom any day. At least Dad doesn't care what I look like, or who I talk to, or if I go out at night. Finally, she caved in and let me try it out. I've never looked back since."

Krista blinked. "Wow." The fact that Ymir had that kind of drive and courage to make a difference in her life was insane to her. 

"So what do you do? Do you play any sports?" Krista asked. Ymir took a sip of her tea before responding. 

"I used to play basketball when I was younger, but I gave up on it after high school," Ymir said. She ran a hand through her hair. "I made it because I was tall, so I could shoot easier. I liked playing it, but when your dad is a sports reporter, you get a lot of unwarranted criticism."

"I didn't know your dad covered basketball too," Krista said. 

"He doesn't." Ymir smiled. Her voice was on the edge of a laugh, just barely beginning to smile. "But he has friends who do. When you've been working in the industry for a while, you start to get the idea that you know everything about any sport that ever existed." 

"Really?" 

"You should see him when we watch the games on TV. He yells at the players as if he's their coach. It's funny, but also kind of sad. The reason he became a sports reporter was because he loved sports too much, and his job has taken that away from him." Ymir stared off into the distance. "And, of course, he had to start traveling to cover ice skating. That was when Mom got super mad."

Krista didn't know what to say to that. She stirred her tea and stared at the ground. The taste of bittersweet mango lingered on her tongue. Ymir stretched out, her arms reaching behind Krista's back. "So at any rate, I got sick of hearing his judgments when I got home from games, so I quit. That was a few years ago. I haven't picked up any sports since."

"Does he do that with any athlete?" 

Ymir smirked. "Ah. You want to know what he's saying about you."

Krista gulped. "That wasn't what I meant! Honest." 

"But you are curious about what he says, right?" Ymir glanced at her from the side. Red-faced, Krista scratched the back of her neck. 

"A little, I guess."

"Normally, not a whole lot. Your routines are simple, but well executed, so he doesn't have a whole lot to say when everything's said and done." Ymir tapped her chin. "Well, with the exception of tonight."

"The quad?"

"The quad." Ymir confirmed. "He thought it was admirable that you decided to step up your game. However, the execution left a lot to be desired."

Krista groaned and held her face in her hands. "You don't have to tell me that."

Ymir laughed. "I guess not. But at any rate, he went into a long spiel about how your landing had wavered just enough to give out. That's all I remember, I zoned out. That stuff doesn't really make sense to me. I watch figure skating, not compete in it."

Krista sipped her tea. The silence between them as they finished their drinks didn't feel awkward or unnatural. Krista felt perfectly at home with Ymir around, and Ymir looked the same. She leaned against the wall.

As she chewed on a tapioca pearl, a question spurted from Krista's mouth. "So if you don't pay sports, what do you do to stay occupied. It must get awfully boring following your dad around if you don't have something to occupy you."

"I thought you'd never ask." Ymir pulled out her phone. "I'd show it to you now, but it's hard to understand. It's easier to see on my computer, but I left that in the hotel room."

"What is it?" Krista craned her neck to get a better look. Ymir held up the documents app. The scrolling bar seemed to stretch on forever, the words filling up pages and pages of notes.

"I write." Ymir puffed out her chest. "I picked it up on a flight with Dad one day, and haven't looked back since." 

"Is it a novel?" Krista skimmed over the text of the first paragraph. A few typos littered the screen, red squiggly lines underlining the mistakes.

"Wait, don't read it yet!" Ymir snatched her phone back and powered it down. "I haven't edited it or anything. Or even finished the first draft."

"What's it about?" 

"You're going to laugh," Ymir sighed. She flung her head back and stared at the ceiling dramatically. "But I'll tell you anyway. It's about ice skaters. Two of them."

"Oh?" Krista arched an eyebrow. "What about them?"

"It captures the epitome of high-level competition. The drama, the mistakes, the rushes of adrenaline. The rivalries, and pressure. I threw in some romance, too."

Krista perked up. "Well, it sounds like you've romanticized the life of us professionals."

"Romanticized is such a negative word," Ymir stuck out her lower lip. "I prefer, amped up...for dramatic purposes. The main character goes to the Olympics."

"Really?" Krista had never admitted it out loud, but her secret dream was to compete in the Olympics. Something about the idea of representing your entire country on the greatest stage of all made her hair stand up. 

“What?” Ymir cracked a smile. “Too stereotypical?”

“No. I like it.” 

Ymir sighed and leaned back. “Me too. The thing is, I’m having such a hard time writing it.” She rubbed her temples as if the mere thought of it gave her a headache. “There’s so much to describe. I have to create an entire routine to put on paper, but I’m no skater. I have no idea what the dance should look like.”

The waitress returned with their bill. Krista placed a handful of cash on the table. “You should send it to me.”

“Yeah?” Ymir rested her head in her palm. “You really wanna subject yourself to that?”

“I have a long flight coming up. I’d love to have something to do.” 

“Okay, Ice Queen. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

They walked back to the hotel together, side by side. Even though the streets around them were wide and empty, Krista felt crowded by Ymir’s presence. She was hyper aware of every misstep, every breath, every motion or movement that jostled the other. 

As they re-entered the lobby, Ymir stopped walking. “Aren’t you going to go up to your room?” Krista turned around. What was Ymir up to? That signature smirk was back on her face, the look that said, ‘I have a bad idea. I know it’s a bad idea, and I don’t care.’

“I was just thinking,” Ymir reached up and ran her fingers through the back of her short hair. “There’s a pool here that’s open all night. I think I’m going to head for a swim.”

“At this time of night?” Krista tried not to sound shocked. 

Ymir shrugged. “I’m too amped up to sleep. Maybe a hot tub will calm me down.” 

“Good luck with that.” Krista waved goodbye as she headed for the stairs. Ymir pressed the call button for the elevator, shaking her head.

“Aren’t you up on, like, the fifteenth floor?” Ymir called up to her.

“You can take the athlete out of the game, but you can’t take the game out of the athlete!” Even as the stairwell door shut behind her, Krista couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She didn’t want to leave Ymir. Not yet. There was something between them that pulled her like a magnet. As her feet pounded up the stairs, she wondered, was this the beginning of something great?


	3. New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir and Krista share a few more words before Krista boards a flight returning to NYC. In the Big Apple, Krista receives a not-so-pleasant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much longer than the last two. I'm sorry they're so inconsistent. That said, if you like the longer chapters, let me know! It is with a heavy heart that I upload this today, in honor of both the 30th episode and 93 chapter of SNK are released. Together they were quite bittersweet.

Krista unlocked her room. The door swung open, revealing the suite just as she left it. She set her bag down and shut the door.Her phone buzzed, an email notification flickering across the screen. 'YmirYo@gmail.com has shared a document with you.' 

Krista bit down on her lower lip and clutched her phone. There was something special about seeing Ymir's name on her phone. Familiar. She didn't look at the time as she sat on her bed. The sheets were crisp and warm. No doubt the mattress was comfortable and cozy. So why didn't she want to sleep? 

She'd stayed up long enough. There was an early morning flight to catch tomorrow

Her nerves buzzed. As she closed her eyes, her mind whirled in fifty different directions, each demanding her attention, calling for her from the world of the awake. 

Krista sat up. Starlight flooded into her room. From her window, the city spread for miles and miles. Infinite. She could see as far as the horizon stretched. Or at least, that's what it felt like. Each flicker of street or traffic lights was a million times brighter, every color more vivid than before. Krista didn't know what this feeling was, but it was too good to waste on sleep.

She closed the blinds.

As she dug around in her travel pack, clothes and items spilled over the sides. The number one rule of traveling, if you're staying for less than two days, don't bother unpacking your suitcase. Krista took that rule a few steps too far. Finally, she reached the blue and white straps of her swimsuit. Krista wasn't much of a swimmer. She preferred her water...frozen. The suit was mostly for show, a box to check off on a packing list.

The one-piece suit looked like something from a 1980's yacht advertisement. It had rarely been worn. It was the only swimsuit Krista's parents deemed 'reasonable' for the public eye. 

She wiggled into the suit and pulled her hair pack into a ponytail. There was a voice in the back of her mind yelling at her to cover up with a towel. It sounded like her mother. Krista shoved it aside. At this time of night, no one else would be up and about the hotel to notice. 

She slipped out of the room. 

The air conditioned blasts hit her skin as she entered the hall. Hotels had always been cold to her. This one was freezing. It made the elevator ride down to the lobby last even longer as she tried to keep from shivering. 

The elevator doors opened on the empty lobby. Signs pointing to the exercise lounge, the conference room, restaurant and pool crossed in every direction. She turned left. 

Though a paper thin door, the sound of running water washed over her ears. The splashes and drips invited her in. She entered the pool and set her room key and shoes down next to a chair. There were two sections, a swimming pool that went from 3 to 5 feet deep, and a hot tub tucked away into a corner that bubbled and steamed.

The swimming pool was empty, the water a crystal clear and waveless reflection. In the hot tub, one singular person sat inside the frothing water. Ymir had her back turned. Her hair was damp, but not wet, as if the steam had misted it. Around the back of her neck, a black bow tied together the two strings of her swimsuit. Beads of condensation rolled down her back, highlighting the spray of freckles on her shoulders.

The only thought Krista managed to muster was 'Oh.'

Ymir was relaxed, at ease. Serene. Krista didn't want to interrupt one of the few moments of peace she had. Krista stepped in a stray puddle of water, and the distinct splash drew Ymir's attention. She tilted her head back, looking straight up at Krista. A playful snicker broke her lips. "Are you following me?"

"Hardly," Ymir slid over to make room in the tub. "A stranger told me that night swims were great for calming down."

Ymir ran a wet hand through her hair, spiking it up in soaked peaks. "I don't have to be a stranger." She stuck out her lower lip, begging for friendship.

Krista looked her over. She wore a simple black bikini, complimentary but not flashy, like Ymir herself. Good. The last thing Krista needed was more flashy people in her life. "You don't have to be a stranger." She agreed.

"Good. You know, I had a feeling you might show up," Ymir turned around and pulled herself onto the tile. "I have something for you." She crossed the pool deck to a chair where she'd left her things. Ymir wiped her hands off on a nearby towel and grabbed a piece of paper.

"What's this?" Krista looked it over. Though it was white printer paper, handwritten notes were scrawled all over.

"I made a copy of Dad's notes. I couldn't stop thinking about how you wanted to know as much as you could so you could improve. When I went up to change, I found a copy of them on the dresser. The business center was open, so I made a copy for you to look over. " Krista reached out to take it and Ymir pulled it away from her grasp. "Don't touch! Your hands are wet."

Krista glanced down. Of course. "I'll hold them for you." Ymir lowered herself into the tub, inch by inch, so not to upset the fragile paper. "Can you see?"

Krista leaned in so she could see the notes better. Ymir's dad had chicken scratch handwriting, half the time looking more like hieroglyphs than English words. "What's that say?" She pointed to one word that was written so messily she had no idea what it was supposed to be. Ymir squinted.

"I think that's supposed to say 'Overall Performance.' When he takes notes, he separates them into categories. What he thought of the jumps, spins, music, choreography, et cetera."

Krista read over the paper, doing her best to decipher the coding. "Your dad could be a government encryptor. No one could read this without a cipher."

Ymir laughed. "Tell me about it. It took me years before I could understand any of it. Is there anything helpful?"

"Here," Krista gestured to the section labeled 'jumps.' "He mentions the Salchow. There're some good observations."

"Like?"

"He noted my arms came out too far. It upset my balance. The jump appeared impulsive and not thought out - which is true. I can definitely use this."

"Glad to hear it." Ymir leaned over the edge of the pool and set the notes down on a dry section of the deck. "You can keep those."

They sat in silence, the only sound the bubbling of the jacuzzi. Krista tapped her fingers against the tile, resting her head on her arm. "Hey, serious question," Ymir said, sitting up. "Why figure skating?"

Krista arched an eyebrow. "Why figure skating what?"

"What made you decide to start figure skating instead of other sports. Most girls would be like, 'I'm going to play volleyball, or swim, or play tennis,' but you decided to do figure skating. Why?"

Krista buried her face in the crook of her arm. She was glad the heat of the hot tub hid her blush. "It's embarrassing."

"Oh?" Ymir leaned in closer, a sparkle in her eye. "Do tell."

"I liked the outfits." Krista sighed, dragging a hand down her face. "When I was little I saw them on TV and thought they were gorgeous. Colorful and glittery and the way they twirled around when the skaters spun....I was entranced by it. They were like prom dresses, but you could dance in them."

"That's why?" Ymir blinked. She covered her mouth with her hand, but the corners of her smile poked through. Her shoulders shook.

"Don't laugh!" Krista shoved her side.

Ymir broke down. Her eyes watered as she struggled to wheeze out, “I can't imagine wearing those. They look scratchy and uncomfortable! I'd want to wear pants or something."

Krista thought back to some of the very first outfits she'd worn. "The ones that aren't made very well are. But once you get into the big leagues, you can afford better stuff." Even if her original suits were scratchy and too small to wear, she still kept them. Each and every outfit had a place in her closet, like a little hall of fame, from the tiny, white snowflake styled glitter bomb she wore when she was eleven, to the blue, off the shoulder sleeves she wore last year. Eventually, her purple and silver suits from this year would go there too.

"How do you guys come up with the music?" Ymir asked. "My dad always noted that skating to such a romantic song so young was a ballsy move. I never understood what he meant."

Krista ran a hand through her hair. "So much of skating revolves around being able to tell a story, through movement, song, and emotion. I have to be able to connect with the lyrics." She curled her fingers into a ball. "It's true, right now I don't have much romantic experience, and it comes across when I skate. But the lyrics are beautiful, and work so well with the routine that I couldn't bear to change the music."

"What music are you using?"

"My short program is 'I Found.' That's the romantic one. It's the harder one to pull off. My free skate is a clip of the Battle Song from the Chronicles of Narnia."

"Seriously?" Ymir snorted.

"What? It has a good intensity. It makes me feel like a hero. Invincible."

"So that one's easier to connect to? To tell a story with? Why?"

"Anyone can relate to wanting to be a hero. But romance? Love? I have no idea what that's like. It's foreign."

"What, no boys back home?" Ymir tilted her head. There was a glimmer in her eye, curious and sharp.

"No. I've never dated anyone. I guess I never saw a boy I could see myself with."

Ymir planted her hands on her hips. Waves rippled over the surface of the water. "You've never dated?" She let out a low whistle. "I got my first boyfriend in eighth grade."

"How long did that last?"

"One whole week. Turns out, I don't like guys!" Ymir threw her hands up to the ceiling in a 'who would have thought?' gesture

Krista stared at her reflection. The light pulses of water disturbed the image. Somehow, it didn’t surprise her that Ymir was gay. "I guess I chose to do a romantic song because love is the most powerful emotion known to people. It makes people blind, the genius turn dumb. It can make dictators crumble and saints turn weak. When I do it right, it can move an audience."

"So you've never been in love, but you're a hopeless romantic. I like that. You're a dreamer."

"Aren't you?"

Ymir tugged on her ear as she considered it. "I'm more of a do-er. But it's always refreshing to meet someone who reaches for the stars."

"I guess to be where I am, you have to aim big. The moment your content with where you are is the moment you get burned."

Ymir looked ready to say something else, but a clash of instruments interrupted her. "Phone," She jumped out of the water and wiped her hands.

"Is that....Never gonna give you up?" Krista wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t believe she was being Rick-rolled by a phone call. Ymir flashed her a 'What are you gonna do about it?' smile and answered.

The speakers blasted her father's booming voice through the entire pool. “Ymir? Where are you?” He didn’t sound upset, more stern than anything else. Still, Ymir pulled back from the phone like it was a disease. 

“I’m in the pool.” 

“Do you even know what time of night it is?”

“One, one-thirty, if I had to guess.” Krista wasn't sure if Ymir had actually missed her father’s point, or if she was being sarcastic.

An elongated sigh broke the silence. “Ymir, your mother and I had an agreement. If you want to travel with me-”

“-Then I have be mature and act like an adult. I know, Dad,” Ymir paused. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Couldn’t you have at least left a note?” 

“I will next time,” Ymir scratched the back of her neck. It was hard to tell, but it looked like she might be blushing. Was she embarrassed?

“Next time?” The tone of his voice was clear. He didn’t want her roaming the streets of random cities after midnight.

“I’ll be more communicative about when and where I go out.” 

“I guess that’s the best I could hope for. Come back up to the room. I need you to read over what I wrote.” The line went dead. Ymir set her phone down and grabbed a towel. 

“Sorry to leave so soon. My dad likes me to read over stuff since I have a creative eye too.” 

Krista smiled. At first, she’d been ashamed to listen in on Ymir’s conversation, but she didn't mind. “It’s fine.”

“See you around, Ice Queen.” Ymir tugged open the pool door. 

“I’ll read your story on my flight!” Krista called. Ymir turned around and flashed two thumbs up before the door slammed shut behind her. 

 

An air horn blasted through Krista’s foggy sleep. Her eyes snapped open as her heart jumped into her throat. She really should change the alarm settings on her phone. She fumbled for the silent button. It was pitch black. Gray fog covered her mind, blurring her vision. Her limbs were thick and heavy. 

“Krista!” Three taps sounded at her door. Coach. “The taxi comes in ten minutes. Are you ready?”

She jolted awake. The flight. Was she even packed? Krista threw her legs over the edge of her bed. “Give me a minute!” She shouted back. The cold air froze her sleep deprived state, snatching her back to reality. 

In the corner of her room, her suitcase sat mostly packed, with the exception of a few things she’d used the night before. She chucked her phone and charger in. As the AC blew through her thin clothes, she realized she was still in her sleepwear. A pair of black running shorts and a sports bra. 

The shorts would work fine, but Krista had to dig viciously to find a sweatshirt to throw on. She tossed her still-damp swimsuit in the bag and zipped it shut, tugging on a pair of flip flops. 

There was no time to brush her hair. Krista opened the door and hauled her suitcase into the hall. She checked her phone, making sure to turn off the alarm. It read five thirty. Normally it went off sooner than that, especially when they had flights in the morning. She must have slept through the first few cycles.

Coach Drain scanned her up and down. Eyebrow arched, he asked, “Are you sure you won’t get cold?”

Krista slowed her breathing. “I’ll be fine.” She stifled a yawn. 

“You look like you just woke up.”

She shrugged. “I’m not wearing makeup.” 

“If you’re really this tired, maybe we should cut back on your training. Even peak conditioned athletes can be overworked.”

“No!” Krista needed every bit of practice she could get. Especially after last night, if she wanted to prove to Coach that she could handle a harder routine, she had to work every moment she could.

Coach Drain leaned against his bag. It was a special box, carrying her gear and outfit so they didn’t get damaged in flight. “Okay,” he didn’t sound convinced. His phone buzzed before he could ask further questions. “Our ride’s here.”

Krista picked up her suitcase. She was always disappointed to leave cities, but there was a pit in her stomach that was never there before. It hurt- physically hurt - like every cell in her body begged her to stay. Why was she so reluctant to leave Barcelona behind? 

As the elevator doors swung open on the lobby, Krista couldn’t help but look behind her. She could see through the small window of the pool door. It was crazy to think anyone would be there at this time, but maybe she could trade a few more words with Ymir before she left. 

The pool was empty.

 

The airport passed by in a blur. Krista drug her feet behind her, step by step, following her coach, eyes trained on the ground. She tried to wake up, but nothing could spark her energy. It was like her mind had stopped recording altogether. 

“How late did you stay up last night?” Coach Drain asked as they boarded the plane. Krista slid into the window seat, resting her head on the wall. Coach looked at her expectantly, lifting their carry-ons into the compartment. 

Krista waved a dismissive hand. In truth, last night was probably the latest she’d stayed awake after a competition in her life. Coach didn’t need to know that though. 

“I told you to get some rest.” 

“‘Some’ is an arbitrary amount,” Krista said. She pulled her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket and opened the documents app. 

Coach sat down next to her, shaking his head. He mumbled something about kids today. Krista pulled out her earbuds and readjusted her chair. She opened Ymir’s story and started reading. Almost instantly, the ideal world swept her away.

_Frozen air turns my breath into a white cloud. I can’t tell if the red in my cheeks is from the cold, or excitement. Plush, insulated fabric protects me from the bite of the rink. I unzip the jacket. Is it even real? Am I imaging this? Is this what it feels like to be an Olympic athlete?_

__

__

_I tighten my skates. The blades are sharp and clean, crisp. Stripes of red, blue, and white color the outside of the white boot. A hand slaps my back._

_“Ready?” Coach asks._

_I push off of the padded mats and onto the ice._

__

__

 

“Krista.” A hand shook her awake. 

“Mmph?” She opened her eyes, sitting upright. Sunlight streamed in through the open shade. Coach opened his mouth, but was interrupted as the plane slammed onto the runway. It jolted Krista from side to side. She gripped the armrests for stability, trying to soak in her surroundings.

“We’ve landed,” Coach announced. 

“I couldn’t tell.” Krista rubbed a knot in her neck. She must have fallen asleep in a weird position.

“You almost never sleep on flights.”

“I didn’t plan to.”

“I can tell. Whatever was on that screen of your’s kept your attention for a solid three or four hours. You whispered ‘finished,’ then fell asleep.”

Right. The story. It came back to her now. She had finished the first draft and passed out afterward. Normally, the movement and turbulence of planes kept her up, no matter how long or late the flight was. Last night must have taken an even bigger toll than she thought.

JFK airport stretched out in front of her. Most airports looked the same, blending together, especially for someone who traveled as much as she did, but JFK was different. There was something so distinctly New York about it, a mix of controlled chaos and impulse. She could pick it out from miles away. 

Rolling her carry-on behind her, Krista weaved in and out of the hoards of people. Thankfully, the nap had refreshed her, and she no longer staggered around uselessly. 

“Excited to be back?” Coach asked. They would be in town for a couple of days before the next competition began. They could use the time to practice and rehearse.

Krista shrugged. “I guess. Are my parents stopping by?” 

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from them.” 

Of course. Typical of them. Sometimes they acknowledged her existence, but most often they left her to her own means. 

As Coach hailed a taxi, Krista pulled out her phone and switched airplane mode off. One text lit up the screen. Her heart soared. Could it be they did care about her after all? Was it possible that her parents would come by?

It was Ymir. 

Krista frowned, the corners of her mouth turning down. She wasn’t disappointed exactly, she loved hearing from Ymir, but she wished her parents had at least wished her a safe flight. She read the text. 

_Hey. Did you read what I sent?_

__

__

_Yeah._ Krista typed back. _I really enjoyed it._

__

__

_No way. It’s the first draft, man. It’s hilariously terrible._

_It’s not!!!! I really liked it._

_Hmph._ Ymir stopped typing for a moment. 

“Taxi’s here.” Coach Drain said. Krista pocketed her phone as the yellow car drove up to them. She threw her bags in the trunk and crawled into the backseat. Horns blasted at each other as cars passed around them. 

Ah, New York. 

Her phone buzzed. _Was the beginning realistic? Like, is that how you feel going into big competitions?_

Her heart sank. She really didn’t want to admit it, but she had no idea. Whether it be Four Continents, Worlds, the Grand Prix or the Olympics, Krista was a stranger to the big stages.

_I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been._

__

__

_Really?_

_I guess that makes me the butt of the figure skating world._

Ymir typed. And typed. And typed. Krista counted two whole minutes pass by before she responded.

_That’s such a stupid thing to say. Just because the judges don’t give you first doesn’t mean that you’re bad. They literally get paid to point out where you screwed up. Anyone else watching? The fans, the spectators watching from home wouldn’t have a clue. When you skate, you skate absolutely gorgeously. You told me that you’re free skate is about being a hero, and when I watch it, I feel invincible! Your quality as a skater isn’t defined by the judges, but how you make us feel. You have amazing potential, incredible drive, and a passion hot enough to melt the ice. To hell with judges who think otherwise. You’ll make it to the GPF this year. I’ll bet on it._

GPF. The letters made Krista’s skin crawl. The Grand Prix Final. If she wanted to make it, she would have to fight tooth and nail. Ymir’s words encouraged her. She could do it. She could be like the main character in Ymir’s novel. All it took was a little more practice.

 

 

Krista’s parents were generous enough to rent her a small apartment in downtown Manhattan. It was small, a bathroom, bedroom, and a kitchen and dining room combined together. It was more space than she needed. Located a few blocks from both the training rink and Coach Drain’s apartment, it had an optimal location.

The view wasn’t half bad either. The way it overlooked the city perfectly captured the elegance of New York. Despite everywhere she’d been, all the pictures she’d taken, the photos from her window were the most popular. 

Krista unlocked the door. The kitchen lights were on. Strange. Krista made a point of turning the lights off to conserve energy. She set her bag down in the entrance and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She was sure she’d left the light off. So who had turned it on?

Maintenance wasn’t scheduled for another week. There shouldn’t have been any electrical shortages. Should she go get Coach? Or check it out herself?

“Krista! How nice of you to join us.” A deadpanned voice broke the silence. Sitting at the kitchen table, legs crossed, manicure immaculate and hair perfected, was her mother. Her dad was there too, standing next to her fridge. He rubbed stray dust between his fingers, judging her cleaning habits.

“What a surprise.” She shoved her hands into her sweatshirt pocket. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Her mom tossed her hair. The blonde hair was the result of a dye job, and the curls were tightly spun with an iron. “We can talk about this later, but first, are you sick?” Her mom crossed the room and grabbed Krista’s face. “You look pale...and those eye circles…”

Krista tore her face away. “I didn’t wear makeup today. That’s all.”

Her mother harrumphed. “That’s not how I raised you, Krista. Has New York made you forget your upbringing?” 

Krista rolled her eyes. “Who could forget Kansas? Or was it Ohio? Maybe Idaho?”

Her mother leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms. “This is why we’re here, honey. You know we wouldn’t show up unless it was important-”

“Trust me. I know.”

“- and we don’t want to waste any time. I have a conference call in a half hour so we’ll make this fast. Your father and I have indulged your fantasies of figure skating grandeur long enough. It’s time you either got serious, or got out.”


	4. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krista's parents offer her one final chance to prove she has what it takes to win on ice, while Ymir tries to take her mind off of an impending storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG. Thank you so much to everyone who commented on this fic! I wanted to respond to you all, but I got overwhelmed with all the responses. So, thank you all for reading! I read every single comment and grinned.

“‘Get serious?’” Krista repeated. Her voice broke, squeaking in a fit of disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you're a seventeen-year-old kid who has no idea what she's doing with her life. You bet on being a professional figure skater, but you have nothing to show for it." Krista's father took a seat at the table across from her and steepled his fingers together, looking down at her from the bridge of his nose. His eyes beaded into tiny circles. 

“It's time you started to focus on your future. Even if you had something to say for your skating, you can't be a pro forever. Especially as an athlete, you have to retire at some point. What will you do the rest of your life?" 

"Skaters can get sponsorship deals. We get paid for more than winning." She doubted they understood. Whenever Krista cashed a check or withdrew money, her parents barely batted an eye. They didn't care what she did with her money, as long as it was her own, not theirs. They didn’t know where it came from. She could be a drug dealer, making bank on other’s addictions, and they would be none the wiser.

He wore a black suit that truly did make him seem ready to go to a business meeting. Like she was a customer instead of his daughter. "Krista, this isn't up for discussion. You need to go to university and get a degree. You need to start thinking ahead."

"I am thinking ahead!" She slammed her hands on the table. Why did they have to take everything away from her?

"Krista." Her mother spoke in a steel cold tone that made her skin crawl. "You've been skating for over seven years. There is nothing you have to show for it. A few gold medals here and there, but you have nothing else. You've never qualified for the Grand Prix, the Olympics, Worlds. You couldn't even manage to make it into Nationals last year."

A hot blush rushed into her cheeks. "What happened at Nationals was a fluke!"

"It doesn't matter. You don't have the skill to make money doing this." 

Krista reeled back. Tears burned her eyes. Every night she worried about having the talent necessary, about being able to rise to the challenge. She didn’t need anyone else voicing the same concerns. How could her parents judge her like that? 

"Skating is all I care about! Even when I had nothing, I had the ice. It’s my escape. The rink is my home! Coach Drain is like family to me."

"He may be like family, but we ARE your family. And we control your finances." The threat was solid. Her father leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. He gave her the same fake, plastic smile that he gave all his customers. Like a salesman. A fraud. "I think we can reach a compromise."

Her blood boiled. It was the rehearsed speech he gave to every salesperson in his company. Krista bit back a bitter laugh.

"A compromise?" The sneer in her voice was hard to contain. "What compromise could you possibly have in mind?"

"Prove us wrong." Her father spread out his hands, palms up. "Qualify for the Grand Prix Final, and show us we misjudged you. If so, we can table this talk for later, and discuss alternative options for your education and future. You can keep skating."

Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. It was fair, if she qualified, she could keep going. Right now, she did schooling online. She was sure she could do the same for college. Krista opened her mouth to agree. Her father held up a hand to stop her. 

"I want to add something in." An idea formed in her mind. 

"You don't have much playing power here," her mother wrinkled her nose. 

"If I qualify for the Grand Prix Final, I want to be emancipated."

"Emancipated? Krista, do you even know what that means?" Her father actually sounded...offended. "Don't you like us as parents?"

Krista decided to overlook that statement. Honesty kills the deal, that's what Mom always said. "I know what it means. And I think it's the best option for us. It makes sense. We don't even live in the same parts of the country. Half of the time, we aren't even in the same hemisphere! It would let me control my own finances, so I can manage sponsorships I get." 

Her parents considered it. Her father raised an eyebrow at her mother. Businessmen talk for 'She has a point.'

"Hmmm." Her mother tapped her fingers on the table. Business talk for 'I think I can live with that.'

"Okay, Krista. If you qualify for the Grand Prix Final, you can get emancipated. But this deal goes two ways."

"Two ways?" What did they want in exchange?

"If you don't qualify, we cut you off. You move back to Kansas. You go to college for business - that's what your mother and I agreed would be best for you. I've done the heavy work for you, and I have possible internships lined up with Dave. You remember Dave, right?"

Dave. Her father's business partner who split into a separate company to maximize profit. They golfed together every Saturday. She did, in fact, remember Dave. Not fondly. "Dave is a creep."

"Krista! We did not raise you to be like this!" Her mother snapped. 

"It's true! Did you hear what he said about the girls on the Olympic swim team the other day?" 

"It doesn't matter. Dave is a good friend of ours and he’s willing to give you a chance to learn hands on." 

Krista folded her arms and slumped back into the chair. "Do we have a deal?" Her father asked.

“As long as Dave lets me take time off to skate, I can survive.” 

Her father leaned in. “Krista, you're missing the point. Either qualify for the Grand Prix Final or terminate your career as a figure skater. No more skating. No more practices. No competitions. That is the deal.”

Krista gulped. No more time on the rink? Nothing at all? She had to talk them out of it.

A phone ring broke the tension of the air. “Sorry, sweetie. We’ve got meetings to get to. Clients to meet, customers to create. We’ll call.” 

That was it. As they rushed out the door, they left nothing but the smell of their perfume. No, 'I love yous.' No 'miss you.' Just, 'we’ll call.' She didn’t even have time to offer up a different punishment.

Krista collapsed onto her bed. She couldn't give up skating. Tears blurred her vision. Skating was the only hold she had on reality. No matter how bad things got with her parents, she had skating to return to. It was more than just the blades on ice, it was the community around her. Her teammates, competitors, she could rely on them. Skating was a small sport compared to some of the others, and the skaters knew each other by name. Sasha, her old rink mate, had graduated into the senior league. Reiner, a skater she'd met in training who taught her how to keep from getting dizzy during spins. She still kept up with both of them to this day. 

Skating was the sites she got to see, the places she could go. She ran her hand down her face and closed her eyes. 

Sometimes, during the winter, they would go to the Rockefeller skating rink and help younger skaters learn how to keep their balance. It was incredible to do. The glimmer in their eyes when they realized they didn't need the makeshift crutches anymore, the triumphant grin after making a lap around the rink without falling. Krista could never give that up. The rush of the wind in her hair, the satisfying noise of the blades cutting through a thin layer of the ice, she couldn't live without it.

Doubt crept into her mind. Everything depended on these next few skates. If she wanted to keep the sport in her life, she had to qualify. But could she? Did she have the skill? The audacity? Her failed jump replayed in her mind. Every mistake she ever made...it added up to this moment. 

She had to fight.

Tooth and nail, no matter who it was, she would do whatever it took in order to keep skating in her life. 

Anger surged inside her. How dare her parents try to say what was best for her? They couldn't even begin to imagine the effect skating had on her life. The only world they knew was the one behind their computer desktops, tucked in office cubicles. It made her sick. She had to talk to someone about it or she would explode. 

She grabbed her phone. 

_You're not going to believe this._ She texted Ymir

_???? Let me guess... Did that one skater that always hangs around you finally confess his love?_

Krista snorted. _Reiner? God, no._

_Gay? I knew it. Then what?_

_My parents. They told me if I don't qualify for the Grand Prix Final I have to quit skating. They'll cut off my apartment, coach, all of it._

Ymir went silent. Seconds later, a phone call lit up her screen. She slid the unlock button. 

"WHAT THE HECK DO YOU MEAN?" Ymir shouted. Krista jerked back and also fell off her bed. Holding one hand over her ear, she tried to regain her hearing. 

She recounted the story, word for word. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! You've got so much potential for someone so young!"

There that word was again. Potential. The promise of something great, but no guarantee. She bit her lip. Right now, potential meant nothing. She needed a miracle. 

“I have something that’ll make you feel better. Wanna see?”

“Sure,” Krista wasn’t sure anything could lift her spirits at this point, but Ymir was more than welcome to try. The line went dead as Ymir hung up. Seconds later, a video popped up on her phone.

'Hockey Player tries figure skating.' The title alone was enough to make Krista cringe. The thumbnail showed a man in his late twenties, wearing a complete set of hockey gear trying to balance on one leg. As she clicked the play button, she had one hope in mind. Please, no one break their neck.

The video featured an ex-hockey player from Canada trying to learn how to spin and jump on the ice. His form was sloppier than a pig's stye. It was hard to imagine at one point she looked like that too.

The thought sucked any of the joy she'd gotten from the video right out. What if she wasn't nearly as good as she thought? By no means did Krista think she was some sort of genius, but she had reason to be proud, right?

Ymir's face flashed across the screen. _Did that help?_

_A little bit._

Krista didn't want to be rude. The video had made her laugh, but in many ways, it scared her even more. The stakes were raised. She wasn't certain she could measure up.

_Maybe you should tell Coach Drain what your parents said._

_So he can do what? They're my parents. They pay him to do this. He's not going to stand up to them._

_I, personally, blame capitalism._

Krista sighed. The rush of New York traffic sounded below. Horns and brakes screeched against the pavement. Street vendors yelled at passersby. Everything about the city was so much different from Kansas. The endless fields of nothing, the feelings of being trapped, the small town culture that she could never seem to escape - Krista didn't want to go back to that

_What are you up to?_ She asked. Maybe laughter couldn't make her feel better, but surely conversation could distract her.

_Hanging out backstage. My dad has to film something in the studio for work._

_You aren't at home?_

_I live in New York, but so does my mom. It was easier to make an excuse about wanting to see the behind the scenes than be around her for a day._

_What's he filming?_

_Some special report about the Grand Prix. A who's who of the figure skating world, I think. He's taking on more and more projects now to try and prove to his boss he can get moved up in position, so it's hard to keep all the stories straight._

_He doesn't want to cover figure skating anymore?_ Krista blinked. Ymir's dad had been covering the sport for almost as long as she'd been competing in it. He had a reputation, a following. Almost every skater knew who he was. Why change that?

_He liked covering it, but it gets old, I guess. He's hoping to get promoted to another sport sometime soon._

_Really?_ Krista's heart skipped a beat. She'd only just met Ymir, but she didn't want their first meeting to be their last. If her dad stopped covering it, would they ever be able to meet again?

_Don't worry about it._ Ymir typed. _I don't think it's likely to happen anytime soon._

Krista sighed in relief. _So, what are you up to backstage?_

_I'm trying to write. It isn't going great._

Krista waited for an explanation. When none came, she pried: _Why?_

_You probably wouldn't get it. You skate, so this'll sound crazy to you, but I can't picture what the routines should look like._

_How so?_

_I have no idea what moves should go with what lyrics, or how to describe the dance. I have no idea where the jumps and spins should go, or how to choreograph it._

An idea formed in Krista's head. Something that could keep her occupied while still being productive. _What song is it?_

_Here._

Ymir sent a link to her phone. The song blasted through her speakers before Krista could adjust the volume. The Truth, she read. James Arthur.

She put the song on repeat and pulled a paper and pen out from her desk. She sat down and started writing.

_What are you doing tomorrow?_ She asked Ymir. 

_Nothing. If I don't find a place to go, I'll be stuck at home._

_Good. Come to the Ice Arena at 6 in the morning. You can watch my practice._

_Ok?_ Krista could almost hear her confusion through the text. It was a sudden invitation. A devious smile fluttered across her face. Ymir was in for a surprise.

**********

“Coach-”

“I already know what you’re going to say.” Coach Drain sat on the bleachers, arms crossed over his chest as Krista sprinted into the rink. She ground to a halt, cocking her head to the side. “You want to learn to jump the quad salchow, don’t you?”

Krista ran her tongue over her lip. She set her backpack down next to the bleachers and took a seat. “I think it will be beneficial to me.” 

Coach Drain leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. The Ice Arena was one of the best facilities in New York. Krista wasn’t sure how much it cost to host private lessons there, but she was sure she didn’t want to know. It was designed for high-level training. The locker rooms were spacious and the ice rink itself was large. Bleachers surrounded it on every side. The speakers could project music to every corner of the room and the lights could be programmed to sync up to it. Right now, they burned with a bright white luminosity. 

“Krista,” Coach exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Coach, I-”

“If you were so insistent that I teach you a jump I’ve clearly stated you aren't ready for, wouldn’t it be to your benefit to show up on time?” Krista’s eyes shot to the clock hanging on the wall. Whoops. 6:10. She was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. 

“The subway was delayed.” She said. In truth, Krista had slept through her alarm - again. She’d rushed to get ready that morning, but she hadn’t had time to look at the clock. 

“I’m sure it was.” Coach Drain closed his eyes. He looked so much older than normal. More stressed. Bags of blue and purple sunk below his blue eyes. His brown hair was normally fluffy and soft. Now it sat flat against his head. 

“I need to raise the difficulty of my program.” Krista rolled her shoulders back and sat up straighter. As much as she hated it, her parents had taught her many useful things about negotiations. 

“I know,” Coach Drain sighed. He scrubbed his hands down the side of his face. “I know, Krista.” 

She gulped. Had Coach gotten a visit from her parents too? 

“You mean-”

“We can start learning the quad salchow. But you have to promise me that you’ll do what I tell you. Nothing less. Nothing more. We can’t risk an injury this late in the season.”

Krista cheered. The rink door slammed open, cutting her celebration short. Ymir sprinted inside, disheveled and breathless. “Sorry I’m late! The subway was delayed.” She looked back and forth between Krista and Coach Drain. “Or am I just in time?”

“We’re about to get started. Krista didn’t tell me she invited visitors, but you’re welcome to stay.” Coach gave Krista a cutting glare. She shrugged. “Go change.” He sighed as he hung his head in defeat.

The ice rushed underneath Krista as she pushed out onto the rink. The familiar glid of the frozen water calmed her nerves. With just a basic warm-up, all her worries vanished. The thought of her parents? Gone. The idea of retirement? Vanished. For once in her life, Krista was free.

Coach stood on the sidelines, shouting instructions to her. Though she could register what he said, she didn't truly hear him. Everything was a million miles away. Her skates were merely an extension of her body, the rink her home, the music her pulse. Utterly thoughtless, she glided over the ice in smooth strokes.

"Pick up speed!" Coach shouted from the wall. "Try to do the quad."

He was judging her. How much she needed to learn, how close she was to the perfect execution. Her feet lifted off the ground as she tucked her arms in.

She landed on her feet. A moment of victory sprung from her heart until her ankle twisted out. Balance knocked aside, Krista flung her arms out to recover. Dang it. She'd landed the jump, but it was far from graceful. She'd almost fell.

"Careful!" Coach called. "You're off in your own mind again. Stay focused! If you have another landing like that you could seriously hurt your ankle."

"Right." Krista repositioned herself and took a deep breath. She often got swept away in her skating. It was both her biggest blessing and her biggest curse. Though it made her feel invincible, it also rendered her lost.

"Let's try again."

Krista barely noticed when the timer went off, symbolizing the end of practice. Coach Drain looked at his watch. Had two hours passed by already?

"You can handle your own off ice training, I trust?" Coach asked.

"The same routine we set up together? I can manage it."

"Good. I have business to attend to, but I'll see you again tomorrow."

Coach Drain exited the rink, leaving Ymir and Krista alone. Ymir rolled a cup of coffee between her hands. "This was neat to watch." She said. "Thanks for inviting me." As she started to stand up, Krista lunged forward.

"Wait! I have something to show you."

Ymir rested her elbows on her knees. "Really? And what is that?"

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. Krista gulped. "It's a surprise. Give me one minute to set up the music."

"Music?" Before Ymir could berate her with more questions, Krista scrambled for the speaker controls.

"Krista? What are you doing?" A deep voice interrupted her midway through adjusting the song. She whipped around and almost slammed head first into a blond brick wall.

Reiner Braun. He was older than Krista by two or three years and towered over her. His blond hair hung loosely around his ears. Over his shoulder, his bag of gear hung down. "I need the rink for a few more minutes."

She hadn't considered the fact that someone else had rented the rink out. She should have known. Reiner's schedule was almost identical to hers. "You need it? We rented it out for practice, Krista." His words weren't malicious, but a flare of defensiveness shot into her stomach.

"It'll be quick." She begged.

"I can't afford to lose any more practice. Unlike you, some of us are close to a spot in the Grand Prix." He tugged on a lock of her hair. Krista took a deep breath and stared at the ground. It was true. Reiner and Sasha, two of the competitors Krista was closest with, had a good shot at making it into the final. While she was still unsure whether or not she would qualify for the Prix at all, Reiner's scores were high enough to guarantee him a spot when the time came.

"Reiner." Krista grabbed his arm. Her nails dug into his skin. "Please."

"Some other time, maybe." He tried to turn away, but she pulled him back

"I can give you something in exchange." Reiner could be swayed with a gift or two and Krista happened to have something she knew he wanted.

"What? Some glitter? An old costume?" He flicked a pleat in her skirt. "No thanks."

"I have something else. Something better."

"Goodbye, Krista."

"Give me the rink for five minutes, and I'll send you the number of that tall Polish skater."

Reiner paused. "You mean Bertholdt?"

Krista waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah, him. I know his rinkmate. Five minutes, and I'll give you his number."

Reiner shuffled from foot to foot. He bit down on his lower lip, weighing the options. "Five minutes." He said. "I'll be timing it."

Krista flung her arms around his shoulders. "Fantastic. You won't even miss it!"

 

She finished fixing the music and ran back to the ice. Ymir leaned over the rail, head tilted to the side. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.” Krista guided her back to the bleachers. “Just watch. You might want to film this.”

Ymir fished out her phone, a confused look on her face. The speakers whirled to life as Krista took her spot in the middle of the rink. Recognition flashed over Ymir’s face as the song she’d sent blasted through the arena. 

Krista stayed up late last night choreographing an entirely new routine. She hadn’t had much time to practice it on the ice, instead going through the motions on the floor of her apartment, but Ymir couldn’t tell the difference. Krista managed to glance up at her between moves. 

Ymir’s eyes were glazed over, her mouth parted in amazement. As Krista struck her final pose, Ymir touched her temple, as if trying to figure out what happened. “You….You choreographed my book?” 

Krista glided to the edge of the rink and joined Ymir on the bleachers. “I couldn’t sleep and I needed a creative outlet. Did you like it?” She held her breath. 

“It was...incredible.” Ymir lunged out and tackled Krista in a giant hug. “Krista, that was amazing! I know exactly what to write now.” 

Krista squeezed her back. “I’m glad I could help.”


	5. Skate Detroit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krista meets up with old friends in the 2017 Skate Detroit competition. Unbeknownst to her, the skate's significance has tripled in size.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is late. I've had a rough week personally and mentally, and writing has been tough. Hopefully, you find it worth the wait!

**2017 Skate Detroit**   
**July 18th**   
**~ 1 month until the start of the Grand Prix**

“Are you even listening to me?” Coach Drain shook Krista out of her daze.

“Huh?” She snapped her gaze back to his face, but it was too late. He knew she wasn’t paying attention. “Sorry.” She scratched the back of her head. 

“What are you looking for?” Coach crossed his arms. “Wait, don’t tell me. It’s Ymir, isn’t it? The freckled girl you keep bringing to practices.” 

“She said she would be here with her dad.” There was no point in trying to deny it. Coach would see through her facade in a heartbeat. “But I haven’t seen her yet.” Despite the mass of people, all the faces floating in the crowd, Ymir had yet to show. 

“Do I want to know why it matters?” 

“She’s like….my good luck charm.” Krista waved her hands through the air. “Whenever she comes to practice, it’s like I can do anything! I’ve landed the quad. It’s the first time I get to show off how far I’ve come to a group of people. She needs to be here to see it.” Between Coach, Mike’s notes, and Ymir’s encouragement, Krista had managed to increase her skill. The quad salchow wasn't a daunting figure anymore, and she had the jump perfected. This was the first skate where Coach agreed to let her jump it in her routine. 

“Just go get changed and warm up.” Coach Drain slumped against the wall. Exhaustion laced his voice.

The junior’s female short program would kick off in mere minutes. Krista was scheduled to be the last skater on the ice. The competitors she was up against varied in skill. Most of them were American, like her, and though she wasn’t one to get her hopes up, she was confident in her ability to pull off the skate. Especially with the quad under her belt, she was unstoppable. 

As long as Ymir showed, that was.

The locker room door swung open. “Krista!” 

Sasha stood in the doorway, face red. Her chest rose and fell in giant heaves.

“What is it?” Krista finished tying up her outfit as Sasha regained her breath. Why was she here? Sasha wasn’t supposed to skate for a few more days. 

“We wanted to talk to you before you went on ice.”

“We?” Krista zipped up her bag and pulled her warm up jacket over her bare arms. The mesh fabric of her sleeves didn’t do much against the blasting freeze of the ice rink. 

“Can you come outside?” Sasha asked. Her brown ponytail glowed amber when it hit the light. That was one thing unforgettable about Sasha- her hair. A few ringlets hung down to frame her face.

“Why do I have to come out?” Krista wasn't against the idea, but the way Sasha shifted her weight from foot to foot made her nervous. What did she have up her sleeve? Her smile was fake. Plastic. 

“Because I can’t come in.” A deeper voice joined Sasha’s as Reiner peered over her shoulder. 

“Reiner?” Krista pulled the door shut behind her as she stepped out of the room. “You aren't even registered to skate here. Is something wrong?” It was a huge treck from New York to Detroit, especially if Reiner wasn’t competing.

“I’m not here to skate. I’m here for moral support.” 

“You should stick around to see Bertholdt skate!” Sasha squealed. “He’s gotten even better since he and Reiner-”

“Sasha.” Reiner flicked her shoulder and gave her a pointed look. “This isn’t about me. Or Bertholdt.” His stern tone carried a bitter undertone. They both looked abnormally serious: Sasha’s eyes weren’t as bright as they normally were. Reiner’s mouth twisted in a frown.

“Right, sorry.” Sasha scratched the back of her head. 

“How’re you holding up?” Reiner asked.

Krista blinked. “Holding up?” What were they talking about? Reiner raised an eyebrow. Sasha bit down on her lower lip, nibbling the delicate skin. 

“Coach Drain didn’t tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” Her heart sped up. What was going on?

Reiner held out a hand to stop Sasha as she started to explain. “If her coach didn’t tell her, then maybe we shouldn’t intervene.”

“Hey!” Anger flared in her stomach and Krista shoved his shoulder. “You can't just say something like that and then leave me in the blue. What is Coach hiding from me?”

“The Grand Prix is right around the corner. The ISU is calculating who will make it in, and who won’t. You’re right on the edge.” Reiner ran his tongue over his lips, considering whether or not to continue. 

Sasha stepped in. “Krista. This skate will make or break your chances of the Prix.” 

A pit fell into her stomach. The world flipped upside down. She knew she was cutting things close, but she expected she'd have more time to pull her rank up. Not once did it cross her mind that it would come down to a single competition. She leaned against the wall for support, closing her eyes. Her hands shook as she pressed them into her face, fingers cold. 

“What’s wrong?” Sasha grabbed her arm.

“I know it’s a big skate, but you’ll do fine. No reason to freak out.” Reiner added. Krista couldn't see either of them through her fingers. 

“This could be the last time I ever go on the ice.” She whispered. A weight settled in her chest. It was so much more real now. Saying it meant that it was true. Her bargain had been a set of Russian roulette. In a moment of hot-headedness, she’d bet on skill and luck. She hadn’t thought about what a loss might mean. 

“What are you talking about? Lighten up!” Reiner jostled her shoulder, but she was off balance and almost fell over. “It’d be nice to get into the Prix, but it won’t end your career if you don't.”

Bad choice of words. Sentences spilled out of Krista’s mouth before she could stop them, a full-on rant. “My parents are going to cut me off. If I can't qualify for the Grand Prix Final for the junior division, they’re making me go back to Kansas. I can’t skate ever again. I’ll have to go to business school and hang out with Dave all day! I hate Dave!” Words tumbled out of her mouth in landslides. She couldn’t comprehend anything she heard or saw. The only sensation was the vice clamping around her ribs.

“I can't let that happen! I can't go back there. It all comes down to tonight, but I didn't think it would be so soon...I….I thought I had more time.”

“You don’t need more time!” A boisterous voice interrupted the other two. Ymir shoved Reiner and Sasha aside, the same sly grin plastered on her face as always as she clapped her hands around Krista’s shoulders. With a light shake, she said, “You’re worrying about nothing! Most of the juniors here are amateurs! You could beat them in your sleep, and now you have the quad under your belt!” 

“I don’t want it to end here.”

“Then it won’t!” Ymir poked Krista in the chest. “You’ve got more than enough determination to make it happen.”

“Who's this?” Sasha whispered to Reiner. He shrugged. 

“Just keep your eye on the prize, and you’ll win for sure. I’ll be watching from the stands, Ice Queen.” 

“I’ll be sure to find you.” A smile flickered across Krista’s lips. She pulled her shoulders back and took a deep breath. Ymir was right. She had the skill set she needed to succeed. Being stressed would only make things worse. 

“Okay, seriously. Who was that?” Sasha leaned over, eyeing Ymir as she walked away. “Some crazy fan or something?”

“Or something.” Krista agreed. “I’ll explain later. I have to go warm up.”

*******

Krista grabbed the ice cold rails. The metal stilled her trembling fingers. Was it nerves or anticipation? She couldn’t tell. Heart hammering in her chest, she rolled out her ankles, getting in as many last minute stretches as possible. 

The arena was just like any other. Crowds and cameras packed into the stands. In the corner, she spotted the panel of judges, clipboards and note sheets ready. Thundering applause drowned out the announcer. The previous skater waved and blew kisses to the crowd. Mina Carolina. 

Krista had skated against her a few times before. Mina was nice enough, but her skating was unremarkable. Average. Krista didn’t know much about her scores or ranks beyond that. If you wanted to make it to the Grand Prix, you couldn't afford to be average. Still, the most crucial part of skating was the ability to play into an audience. Right now, Mina had them wrapped around her finger. Granted, she was a Detroit local and had a home field advantage. 

Mina made her way to the kiss and cry to await her scores. Out of the other four skaters that had taken the ice so far, the scores were underwhelming, from seventy to eighty in range. Krista tapped her fingers against the rail. 

Cheers erupted from the stands. Mina’s tally came back at eighty-five. Though average, Mina had raised the bar.

Krista closed her eyes. Her record score in the Short Program was eighty-nine. Most skaters said the free skate was where it counted, but every point mattered. She had to get ahead now, while she still could. To qualify for the Grand Prix, she would have to get first or second in the competition. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Coach Drain grabbed her shoulder. “Don’t think about qualifying for the Prix.”

She didn’t have time to respond. The announcer boomed: “Taking the ice, from The United States of America, Krista Lenz!” 

Krista pushed off onto the rink. Her skating dress fluttered around her legs. The stands sounded with applause, though it was nothing compared to Mina’s. Reiner and Sasha sat near the wall, waving and grinning. A tall boy with black hair sat next to Reiner. 

At least she’d done something right relationship wise. Maybe she couldn’t figure out how to fully perform to a song about love, but at least she could set up her friends. “Krista!” 

As she ground to a halt, a new voice called from the sidelines. Ymir was out of her seat, as close to the rink as she could get, standing by the plastic barrier. “Show them how it’s done!”

Krista flashed a thumbs up and assumed her starting pose. The first few notes of the song fluttered over the loudspeakers. Her body moved on its own. Like autopilot, she knew the choreography step by step. She barely had to think about it. The lyrics made a shiver run down her spine. The critics claimed she’d never been in love, so her song choice was premature, but as her eyes glided over the crowd, Krista had to differ.

What was it about this skate that was so different? Why did the chords of music resonate down her spine and the words shake her core? Her eyes locked onto the freckled figure standing by the rink. Ymir’s form blurred from Krista’s movements, but she could recognize Ymir from miles away. Her heart swelled. What she’d said to Coach earlier wasn’t an exaggeration: Ymir was her good luck charm. Whenever she was around, Krista skated ten times better. She didn’t feel so detached to the emotions of her piece as long as she could find Ymir in the stands. 

She slowed just enough to lock eyes with her. A sly smile fluttered over her lips. _Are you watching, Ymir?_ She thought. _This is for you._

She kicked off the ice. The world spun in flashes of white and gray. As she touched down, the impact jolted through her ankles and knees. Krista used the momentum to speed into a spin. 

Cheers exploded from the sidelines. A smile fought its way onto her face as pride swelled in her chest. Just a month or two ago, she’s fallen flat on her face trying that very same jump. Now the quad salchow was easy. 

Breathing hard, Krista struck her final pose as the music ended. Heat radiated from every inch of her body. Her heart pounded. Her fingers shook as she relaxed. Krista flexed her hands as she skated to the exit. 

“Fantastic,” Coach Drain draped his arm around Krista’s shoulders. “Simply fantastic.” 

He handed her the warm up jacket she’d left behind. Krista hung it over her shoulders but left her arms free. Right now she didn't need any more heat. She took a seat in the kiss and cry. 

The bench was cold to the touch. She sighed. She wanted to wipe her face off but she couldn’t mess up her makeup yet. Cameras and news crews swarmed the area. Krista plastered a smile on her face. Normally Coach would analyze her performance right then and there, but he held off this time. 

Krista looked up at the jumbotron. A live stream displayed her face over the entire stadium. Her cheeks were flushed and her face glowed, but Krista didn’t know if she'd ever looked so happy. 

She’d told them. She told Coach, Mike, her teammates that she could jump the quad. Tonight, she’d proved it. 

“Congratulations, Krista.” From behind the gates that blocked off reporters, Mike scribbled on a pad of paper. He offered her a sly wink. “The quad salchow has really improved.”

She was cut off from answering by a voice blaring over the loudspeakers: “The scores for Krista Lenz are in!” 

Her fingers tightened into balls. 

“In the short program, she scored ninety-one points! A personal best. She is currently in first place.” 

Krista flung her arms around Coach Drain’s shoulders. Tears welled up in her eyes as a rush of adrenaline buzzed through her veins. Cameras flashed around her. The ground turned into clouds beneath her as she floated out of the kiss and cry. This was it. The Grand Prix, her career, it was all within her grasp. If she could just-

“Hey!” Krista jolted back to reality in time to slam her chin into someone’s shoulder. 

“Sorry.” Krista stepped back, rubbing the sore spot. Not even the harsh collision could wipe the smile from her face. 

“What did I tell you about apologizing for things that aren’t your fault?” 

Krista raised an eyebrow. Who would say that? She looked up for the first time. Ymir grinned down at her, arms behind her back. Something poked out from behind her shoulders. “Did you hear that! A new personal best!” 

“I heard. It was on the intercom.” Ymir said, amused by Krista’s energy. “I have something for you.”

Krista pulled back, eyebrows knit together. “You got me a gift?”

Ymir dipped her head. If her hands weren't clasped behind her back, Krista was sure they would be tugging at the small locks of hair at the back of her head. Ymir shifted her weight as she explained, going from her tiptoes to her heels. “I know this is a big moment for you, and I thought you would want something to mark it. And I wanted to encourage you for tomorrow during the free skate. So, here.” Ymir produced a bouquet of roses. The colors swirled from white to purple and black. The same colors as her outfit. “Do you like them?”

Krista couldn't find words. No one had ever bought her a gift in congratulations, much less flowers. She threw her arms around Ymir’s neck. “I love them.” 

Ymir’s fingers threaded into her hair, careful not to disturb the delicate style. “You’ll kill it tomorrow, Ice Queen.”

“As long as you’re watching, I can do anything,” Krista promised.

*****

**July 19th**

Krista set her bag down on the bleacher in front of her and took a seat facing the ice. The men’s senior short program was in full swing. Two skaters had already received their scores. She wasn't technically late since she didn’t have to even be there for another hour, but she still felt bad that she’d missed their skates.

“You did well last night.” Reiner bounced down a set of stairs and plopped down next to her. 

“Thanks. What have I missed?” 

“Not much. Bertholdt just finished. He’s waiting for his score. The other skaters were fine. Not much to see.” 

“So you’re here to watch Bertholdt?” Krista asked. Reiner set a package of popcorn down between them and gestured for her to take some.

“Pretty much. We hardly get to watch each other when we aren’t competing. Especially with the Grand Prix, I wanted to watch him as a friend.”

“Friend?” Krista cocked her head. “Are you sure about that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You came all the way out here, took time out of your own schedule just to come watch him as a friend?” Krista asked, resting her chin on her hand. 

“I- well, yeah.” Reiner chewed on his lower lip. His eyes didn’t move from the kiss and cry, where Bertholdt wrung his hands nervously. 

“Why?” 

“I wanted to support him. Missing one or two days of practice won’t hurt me.”

“That’s not what you said when I needed to borrow the rink for five minutes,” Krista recalled how adamant Reiner had been about needing the practice.

“That’s beside the point.” Reiner’s cheeks burned bright red. “Maybe we aren’t just friends, but we’re trying to keep it casual.”

Right. Because coming halfway across the country to watch Bertholdt skate instead of practicing was casual.

Krista huffed. They lapsed into silence. Reiner’s foot bounced against the rink floor. His fingers curled into a death grip on the bleachers. Below them, Bertholdt wiped his face with his sleeve. The sweat was just as much from nerves as his skate, which bothered Krista. Bert was a great skater. Why would he be nervous?

The scores came in. Ninety-five. Krista let out a low whistle. A grin erupted across Bertholdt’s face. Reiner jumped to his feet, shouting his congratulations. Her eyebrows knit together. If this were any other competition, Reiner and Bertholdt would be skating against each other. Would Reiner still be happy for him then? Krista didn’t think she’d ever cheered that hard for another skater in her division. 

“Do you love him?” The question blurted out of her lips before she could stop it. 

“What?” Reiner blinked. 

“Do you love him?” She repeated.

Reiner let out a nervous laugh. “We’ve only been talking for a month. It’s impossible to love someone in that amount of time, don’t you think?”

Krista scanned the stands. Across the rink, next to her dad, Ymir sat with her shoulder propped up on the row above her. Their eyes met and Ymir winked. “I disagree.” 

“Whatever.” Reiner shrugged. “You’re like...twelve.”

Krista shoved his shoulder. “Shut up, Reiner.”

“Seriously. If you don’t get going you’ll be late to fifth-period English class.” 

“I’ll spill this popcorn on you!” 

Reiner fell into a fit of laughter. “I’m sure you would. Which is why I’m going to wish you luck on your free skate and leave.” He handed her the popcorn bag and stood up. “Don’t worry about the scores, you hear? Just do your best and the rest will fall into place.”

Krista nodded, though a small flare of anger surged inside. It was easy for Reiner to say. He was a sure-in. Krista had to fight to get where she was. 

Her fight was far from over.

 

*****

“You did great!” Ymir stood over Krista, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Second place is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Krista wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Her eyes were rimmed red. Moisture dripped down onto her cheeks. “What if it’s not enough?” 

“You can’t worry about that.” Ymir grabbed her shoulders. The pain of the results still stung her pride. Results of the free skate were neck and neck between her and Mina. In the end, Mina edged out a few more points. Krista fell from first place to second. It wasn't a bad rank, but it put her shot at the Grand Prix into serious jeopardy. 

Interviews finished, Krista had just changed out of her skating gear. Her hair was still up, but she’d tried to wipe away the glitter from her face. “How much longer until you find out?” Ymir asked. 

“Team USA and the ISU will have the qualifiers posted in an hour and a half.” 

Ymir folded her arms. Her nose wrinkled. “That’s too much time for you to wallow around waiting.” 

“Then what do you suggest?” 

“Tell your coach that you’re going out. I’m taking you to see the city.”

“It’s Detroit, Ymir.” 

“Charming in its own right! We won’t be out that long.” Ymir grabbed Krista’s hands and squeezed her fingers. “Please?”

“Fine,” Krista ducked her head. “I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby at nine. I have to drop off my gear.”

 

***************************************

“The great city of Detroit!” Ymir spread her arms out, walking backward so she could face Krista. The corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk. “Known for factories and automobiles.” 

Krista laughed. It came out as more of a gasp. Nerves still forced her heart to beat irregularly. “This place has the busiest fire department in the US,” she offered.

“See? Fascinating!” Ymir jostled flung an arm around Kurt's shoulders. The city felt like an alternate dimension. Lights flickered on and off from buildings, only an occasional person scuttling to and fro. The sidewalk ahead of them was virtually empty. Ymir could have walked backward for yards without running into anyone. 

“What did you want to show me?” Krista asked. 

“We’re almost there,” Ymir promised. They’d taken a city bus from the hotel to the middle of the city. Krista wasn’t sure why. Most people weren’t willing to trapeze around Detroit after dark, but Ymir didn’t care. Krista had to lie to Coach Drain in order to get out.

“Here!” Ymir grabbed her shoulders, pulling Krista back. In Front of her, in big block letters read Detroit Skate. 

“An ice rink?” The building was fairly small. Other businesses crowded it on both sides, keeping it down to the size or a restaurant. Her eyebrows knotted together. An ice rink wasn't exactly the most comforting place for her to be.

“It's open late. I though, with everything that's stressing you out, you might to just relax. Skate without expectations, remember why you love the sport.”

Krista hesitated. “We can always go somewhere else, too.” Ymir rushed. 

“No.” Krista took a deep breath. “I want to do this. Let’s go.”

The lobby of the rink was the size of a living room. A cashier stood in the empty room, placed behind a counter. Her head was in her hands and her eyelids drooped. She stared blankly at the TV hanging on the wall. Krista handed over the money for tickets. “Complimentary lockers are around the corner. Don’t wear your skates past that door-” she pointed to the entrance to the rink. “What size skate do you want?” 

Krista and Ymir traded in their sneakers for the blades. Luckily Krista still had the fuzzy socks she wore under her skates on, so she didn't have to worry about blisters.

A blast of cold air made the hairs on her neck stand up as she entered the rink. It couldn't be a competition rink, it was too small and shaped in a figure eight. No one else was on the ice. A few benches ran parallel. 

Krista tied up her skate laces and stood up. It took a few steps on the padded floor to get used to the new blades. They didn't fit the same as her personal ones. Though, those were custom fitted and made. She shifted her weight. It wasn't what she was used to, but Krista could make it work for a few hours.

"Ready?" She turned back but Ymir still stood on the mats, skates on the floor next to her. Her sneakers were still on her feet. "What's wrong?”

Ymir let out a breathless laugh. "I'll just watch from here for a while." She sat down on the bench closest to the rink. Krista furrowed her brow

"Why? You brought me all the way here. You even paid for the rentals."

"Maybe I'll get on the ice later," Ymir waved a dismissive hand. Her black shirt had cutouts over the shoulders that provided a window to the spray of freckles over her skin. In many ways neither of them were dressed for skating; Krista still wore her jeans and a t-shirt. Still, it seemed silly not to skate.

“Is something wrong?” 

Ymir sighed and leaned back. “It’s stupid. Like, I-can’t-believe-I’m-about-to-admit-this stupid.”

“Don’t leave me on a cliffhanger like that;” Krista begged. “Please?”

Ymir ducked her head. Her fingers scratched the short hairs at the back of her head. With a laugh, she hid her face in her hands. "I'm a really bad skater." She admitted.

Krista blinked. A shocked laugh bubbled in her stomach. "That's it?" She snickered. "That's your big secret?"

"It's not funny!" Ymir snapped though a smile spread across her face. "And it is super embarrassing. I can barely stand up on my skates when I'm on normal flooring. When I get on the ice it’s like gravity flips on its head. I fall almost every time; even if I'm holding onto the rail."

Krista chewed her lower lip. "Okay. That is pretty bad but we all have to start somewhere!"

"Somewhere is not flat on my back. If you think I'm going to try to skate like that with you, you're insane."

"With me?" Krista wasn't sure if she should take that as an insult or compliment.

"You're a professional figure skater! You compete all around the world. You shortchange yourself all the time and undercut the skills you have. If you think you're subpar, then I'm....horrible."

Krista sat down next to her. Everyone deserved to feel happy on the ice. Knowing you could conquer the elements, balance on a surface notorious for making people fall was incomparable. There had to be a way to help Ymir.

"Did you ever take lessons?"

"They did not help. In order to learn to skate, you have to be able to stand up."

Krista rested her head on her hand. So many people she'd met helping out in Rockefeller center were as skilled as Ymir. But by the time Krista and her friends were through, they could go confidently over the ice.

She'd had the pleasure of coaching them from shaky skaters to....well....stable skaters.

"That's it!" Krista shot upright, startling Ymir out of her daze.

"What?"

"I'll teach you." Krista jumped to her feet and spread her arms. "You said it yourself, I'm the Ice Queen. Who better to teach you to skate?"

Ymir leaned away, eyebrows raised. Her eyes flickered from one corner of the rink to the other, searching for someone to save her. She was backed into a corner. 

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Ymir sighed. She bent over and grabbed her skates, despite her words, a glimmer of anticipation glowed in her eyes.

Krista opened the rink gate and pulled herself onto the ice. One hand on the rail, she offered the other to Ymir. With a gulp, Ymir stepped onto the ice. She immediately dove for the wall and clasped onto the rail. Her fingers turned into clamps on the only stable surface. 

“Here.” Krista held out a hand. Ymir glared at it, teeth gritted. Her jaw was tense, her entire body taught like a bow. All her energy was spent on staying upright. “It’s actually easier to keep your balance when you’re moving.” 

Ymir let out a tight breath. One hand came off of the rail and stretched out. Krista threaded her fingers in with Ymir’s. Krista pried the other hand off of the metal. “Trust me,” 

She pushed off. Blades cut through the ice. She skated backward, eyes locked on Ymir. Her shoulder hunched over. Her fingers dug into Krista's in a death grip.

 

"Krista," Ymir started.

"Don't think about it," Krista said. "The more you think about the more likely you'll fall. ."

"I think I'm likely to fall either way," Ymir muttered. Her cheeks were flushed with a red hue.

"You're doing great."

It was true. For all the talk, Ymir stayed upright. Most of her weight rested on Krista, but she could hold them up. The look on Ymir's face was priceless. Her mouth parted, eyebrows knit together. A sparkle in her eyes caught the light.

"I'm letting go of one hand," Krista warned.

"No! Don't!" Ymir begged. Krista pulled away, leaving Ymir to regain half of her balance. Her hand shot out, steadying herself. There was no wall to grab onto. Ymir managed to stay standing all on her own.

"How?" Ymir asked. Krista giggled.

"Everyone has some athletic ability in them."

Ymir grinned. She skated forward just enough to close the gap between them. "I guess I just needed the right teacher." Her hand brushed Krista's cheek. Fingertips were cold against her skin.

"And I needed your inspiration,’ Krista thought back to every time Ymir had been there to help. "I could never skate like I did last night without you there. " She covered Ymir's hand with her own. "You got me the notes for the quad Salchow. And whenever I feel bad you remind me why I live to skate. You're a miracle worker."

Ymir let out an airy laugh. Her head dipped down until her forehead rested against Krista's. "I'll always be there to cheer you on." Krista closed her eyes. Ymir's breath brushed against her cheek. Butterflies tickled her stomach. Ymir's thumb ran small circles across her cheekbone. "You understand that? I'll always be there." Ymir's voice cracked. "Always."

Krista was close enough to count the number of freckles on Ymir’s cheeks. Every little speck was magnified twenty times over. Shades of brown and gray and black swirled in her eyes, two galaxies that begged her to lean in. 

A sharp ring burst through her trance. Ymir started, pulling away. The phone in her pocket rang again. As she dug around for it, Krista swore Ymir cursed under her breath. “Dad?” 

Ymir went silent as he chattered on the other end of the line. “I’m with her.” Ymir grabbed a glance in Krista’s direction. “What’s going on?” 

Krista’s heart sped up. She pulled out her own phone. The screen lit up with more notifications than she could count. Missed calls from Reiner, Sasha, Coach, and….her parents. Why was Mike trying to get a hold of her too? 

Her mouth ran dry. She opened the most recent voicemail, a panicked voice screaming in the back of her mind. God, please let everyone be okay. Were her parents hurt? Did something happen to another skater? 

“Krista-” Ymir hung up the phone, head hanging to the ground. “The results are in.”


	6. Results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krista receives her ranking while Ymir schemes up a plan to help her calm down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in there, everyone! Sorry to leave you on such a cliffhanger.

"The results?" Krista lunged for the phone. Ymir pulled back, eyes wide. "Don't leave me hanging! I need to see them." Krista's eyes dilated. She couldn't see straight. Everything but Ymir's face faded into a blur. She couldn't suck in air. 

"Calm down." Ymir grabbed her shoulders. 

"I...need...to know." Her heart pounded. The world zoomed out of focus. For the first time in years, Krista couldn't balance on the ice. Her knees threatened to fold out from under her. 

"You should sit down first." Ymir grabbed her arms and helped her skate to the wall. Her fingers wrapped around the rail, and she dipped her head. Gasping, she tried to breathe, but panic constricted her chest.A million questions swirled in her mind. What if she didn't make it? Was this the end of everything? She'd tried so hard. What if it wasn't enough? It was never enough. She was never good enough. Failure now was just a representation of her entire life. Tears welled in their ducts.

"Just tell me," Krista begged. Thoughts swirled in and out of her mind before she could grasp them. Rims of black edged her vision. A soul crushing vice grasped her chest. What was happening?

Ymir put a hand on her back. "Take a deep breath. You're panicking."

"I know I'm panicking!" Krista snapped. She closed her eyes. Flashes of color burned her eyelids. She drew a quivering breath. "Tell me: Am I in?"

Ymir scanned her phone. The fingers on Krista's back curled up, clenching a fistful of her shirt. The silence shattered as Ymir gasped. "You skate at Skate America and the Rostelecom Cup. Krista; you're in the Prix."

"I'm in?" Krista looked up. The lights illuminated Ymir's face in a golden halo.

"You're in! You qualified!" 

Krista took a step back. Her weight sent her gliding gently over the ice. Shaky hands grasped her hair. Air rushed in as a surprised laugh shook her lungs.

"You did it!"

"Oh my God!" She yelled. 

Ymir grabbed her around her waist and lifted her into the air. Krista wrapped her arms around her neck. "Oh my God." She whispered into Ymir’s shoulder. She still couldn't think, but now it was excitement that blinded her.

"We did it, Ymir." She grinned. The ceiling above her spun in circles.

"No. You did it. This was all you, every last bit.” Ymir set her down, but kept her arms around Krista’s waist. "Your talent got you this far. Your determination and your confidence. I had nothing to do with it."

"That's what you think, huh? You know, it's so funny. You have a real hobby of undermining yourself. You were the one cheering me on."  
Ymir shoved a hand out to cut Krista off. "The entire stadium cheered for you. Just like they will in October at the Rostelecom Cup."

"Well, the entire stadium didn't bring me a bouquet." A sly smile spread over her cheeks.

"You've got me there," Ymir tapped her chin.

She bumped her hip into Krista's. "Come on," Ymir pointed to the exit. "We need to get back to the hotel. I imagine there are a kajillion texts you need to answer. And an angry coach to counter."

"Don't remind me." Krista looped her arm around Ymir's waist. "Coach is going to be ticked I went out."

Ymir ruffled her hair. "Something tells me it fades in comparison to the news. You're in the Prix, Krista!"

She leaned into Ymir's touch. "You'll be there to watch, right?"

"For every single skate. Front and center." Ymir promised.

*****  
**October**  
*****

"Coach," Krista shook his sleeve. "Coach, I wanted to talk to you."

"Yes?" Coach Drain looked up from the program in his hand. The brazen symbol of the Rostelecom Cup was proudly displayed on the front. Inside that program, Krista's name was written in bold letters. Two song names would be written next to it. Along with any other competitor, Krista had earned the spot in the program. True, she'd had to fight tooth and nail for it, but she belonged there. 

Hundreds of people dreamed of making it into the Grand Prix series. Most never did. The select few lucky enough to qualify had only two chances to prove their worth.The Prix worked in a series. Each qualifying skater performed in two competitions. The scores were tallied up, and then the top six in each division were invited to the Grand Prix Final. That was what she needed. The Grand Prix Final would be her ticket to the life of a professional figure skater- and a life without her parents breathing down her back. She could almost taste her freedom: No more calls about what this or that expense was. No more arguing in the middle of the night about her future. No more Dave. No more Kansas.

It was all within her reach "I want to add more quads into my program."

Coach looked up from the brochure, eyebrow arched over a squinted eye. "Why would you want to do that?" He shut the packet and leaned back in his chair. 

"The other skaters I'm going up against tomorrow will be some of the toughest I've ever faced. Some of them have higher difficulty points than me by twenty!"

There were two parts to scoring: Base difficulty and execution. If a skater failed a jump, they could still regain points based on the level of difficulty. Failing a single jump was not worth as much as failing a quad. And if you landed the quad? It was worth a lot more than landing a single. The quad salchow in her program gave Krista an advantage compared to where she’d been this time last year, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

"If you can't land the jumps, it won't do you any favors." Coach said. "I know you're worried, but you're not ready. This routine got you into the Prix. It'll take you as far as you need it to."

Krista grabbed the brochure off of the table. She flipped through the pages, almost tearing the corners until she froze on the junior division page.

"There." Krista jabbed a finger at another small blonde. "Do you see her?"

Coach Drain leaned in to read the small print. Krista's finger covered part of the paragraph, but he could recognize the picture. "Annie Leonhardt. Germany."

Annie was by far one of the favorites going in the Prix. Most people were betting money on her qualifying for the final. Her difficulty scores were off the charts. Most seniors didn't jump more than two quads in their program. The most Krista had ever heard of was four. Annie planned three in her program. A routine like that was subhuman. Alien. Especially in a junior. Coach Drain pinched the bridge of his nose. Honestly, at this point, Krista wondered if it would be best to get him a permanent clamp to use instead.

"I know you're worried about the competition. Heck, as a coach, going up against Annie is nerve wracking. This is some of the fiercest competition you've ever faced, and it'll only get worse from here. I know you want to win. I remember how it feels to be so close, yet so far."

"Do you?" The words came out sharper than she meant.

"Believe it or not, I actually know how to coach from experience." Coach Drain sighed. Sometimes Krista forgot he too had once been a professional skater. "I remember the desire. How desperately I wanted to win. It burned my chest and tasted like metal on my tongue. I remember how much I twitched, lying awake at night before competitions wondering if it would be enough. Knowing that every jump I did, every spin or move was the only chance I had to show the world just why I should be a champion. So believe me, I know how you feel and as a fellow skater there is nothing I admire more than someone with enough drive to throw everything else aside in order to win. You are everything I wanted to be as a competitor. But as a coach, you are my worst nightmare."

"A nightmare?" Krista tried not to hang her head, but a whole new weight dropped on her shoulders. Was she really that much of a burden?

"Competitors like you are a dream come true. Everything a coach could want: The drive, the passion, the fire, ability, and skill. But you have no sense of perspective. You have more than enough time to win the Grand Prix Final. You have years ahead of you to prove your worth. You can do so much, but you can't rush your learning curve. Some things only come along with time. And when your drive sends you so far that you forget to take your time, you get hurt."

Krista brushed him away. "I'm not going to get hurt. You said the same thing about the quad salchow, and look at me now! I learned it in less than a month! It's the signature of my routine."

Coach Drain clenched a fist. "Sometimes the learning curve changes. But if you try to force it to change, things don't work out. Trust me. Do you know how many skaters I've seen fall victim to their own greed and arrogance? How many skaters have you met that never continued to their senior season? Who got hurt and dropped out before they ever made a debut?" Coach Drain flopped back into the armchair. One leg bent up to his chest, the sole of his foot resting against the chair. A subconscious hand wrapped around his ankle. "Hundreds of professionals have to retire before their time.”

"Don't you have faith in me?"

Coach Drain exhaled. "Krista, did I ever tell you why I quit skating?"

"You quit?" Krista blinked. That was news to her. As far as she knew, Coach had lived out a long and healthy career as a skater and retired in the normal fashion.

"No. I didn't," Coach Drain stood up and rolled the edge of his jeans over his ankle. "I was forced to retire by a doctor." Under the skin, a jagged bump hid under a scar that wrapped around his leg.

"What did you do?"

"I tried to jump the quad axle."

Krista gasped. The axel jump had an extra half rotation in it, making it the hardest of the six jumps. And a quad? That meant four and a half rotations. Most people believed it was impossible to cleanly land it. "I was overconfident. I went against my coach’s wishes and tried to jump it in a competition. I snapped my ankle. The bone broke the skin and I had to be carried off the ice by paramedics. After that, I was over. I’m trying to prevent a similar fate for you. One day, I'll teach you more quads. But not today. Not now. Understand?"

Krista ducked her head. "Yes."

“Good. Get a good night’s sleep. You skate at noon tomorrow.”

 

****

Krista did not go to sleep. How could she, when the mounting pressure set her nerves on fire? Her fingers tapped on whatever substance she could find - the table, the bed, her phone. She flipped off the lights, but nothing helped. In the middle of the night, energy burned a hole in her stomach.

Maybe she was too hot. Maybe her pillows weren't adjusted right. After removing a blanket and fluffing up the headrests, she flopped back onto the mattress. Sleep evaded her all the same.

Her phone lit up. _You up?_ A single text read.

_How can I sleep?_ She fired back. Krista was starting to believe that Ymir never slept. She was always awake in the dead of night, and she never went more than ten minutes without answering a text.

_I think I have something that could calm your nerves. What room are you in?_

Krista glanced at her key card. Room numbers were something she easily forgot. Coach Drain made a point of scribbling them on the card so she wouldn't get lost. _507._

_I'll be up in three minutes._

Krista flicked a light on and scrubbed her eyes. Her hair was a mess of bedhead, even though sleep was the farthest from successful. She pulled it up into a bun. A burst of short raps tapped on the door. Krista didn't bother to check the peephole as she threw it open.

Ymir stood in the hall with a familiar grin on her face. In the past month, her hair had grown out. It was tied back in a tiny ponytail and secured by a red scrunchie. The freckles on her face were more prominent in the odd glow of the hotel lighting. Like Krista, she wore her pajamas, a black tank top, and runners shorts. A DVD case was tucked under her arm. The front faced in, so Krista couldn't make out the movie.

"Ready?" Ymir pushed her way into the hotel room.

"Yeah, yeah." She closed the door behind Ymir. Her lips and throat went dry.

"You want something to drink?" Krista asked. She had stocked the tiny fridge the hotel provided with bottles of water. Coach agreed to let her have sparkling waters. Krista wasn't a huge fan of them, but it was their compromise on a possible soda ban.

"I'm good." Ymir shook her head.

Krista grabbed a water for herself and opened it up. "Got a TV in here?" Ymir asked.

Krista pointed to the dresser. Ymir swung the door open, revealing the TV and a pile of wires. She set the DVD down on a desk, face down. Was she hiding what movie it was on purpose? Ymir squatted down and examined the cables.

"DVD, DVD...." she murmured. "Ah! Found it!"

Krista set her water down as Ymir connected two cables to a box in the back. A hidden slot slid open and she shoved the DVD inside. "Are you going to tell me what we're watching?" Krista asked.

"No." Ymir grabbed the remote. There was only one bed in the room and no other furniture faced the TV. "Can I?" Ymir motioned to the mattress.

"It's big enough for us both." Krista readjusted the messy blankets. The comforter and sheets had been tossed aside and curled into balls in her fit of sleeplessness.

Ymir crawled on top of the sheets and propped herself up on a pile of pillows. Krista crawled in next to her. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Ymir flicked off the light as the DVD whirred to life. Krista released a sigh of relief. At least that way no one could see her blush.

"I brought some popcorn too. Want me to make it?"

"I shouldn't. Not the night before a competition." Krista said. Coach wasn't super strict about a diet. He said he had bigger concerns. The rules boiled down to no excessive sugar and a specific pre-routine meal that would give her nutrients for the upcoming day.

"Oh come on. You never break that rule?" Ymir poked her side. "Not even once?"

"I shouldn't. Any other competition sure, but this one I shouldn't take any chances with."

As a commercial burst to life on the TV, Ymir jumped onto her knees. Her frame blocked Krista's view of the program. "That's the problem!" Ymir exclaimed.

"What?" Krista craned her neck to see around Ymir. She whirled around and clicked the preview to pause.

"This is the problem!" Ymir crawled over until she completely blocked Krista's view. She latched onto her shoulders and shook her lightly.

"What's the problem?"

"You say you would cheat with the popcorn at "any other competition" Don't you see? The only reason you're freaking out is because you treat this like it's special!"

Krista tried to wiggle out of Ymir's grasp, but she was stuck. The more she struggled, the deeper Ymir’s fingers stuck in her arms. "It is special! I only have two chances to score high enough to get into the final. I can't mess up. There aren't any redos. This is the biggest skate I've ever done."

"No, it isn't." Ymir dug her fingernails into Krista's skin. "The moment you say it's different is the moment that you psych yourself out. This is the same routine you've done for weeks, the same people you've competed against for years, the same arenas you've skated in before. The only thing that's different is someone slapped a label on it and picked out competitors by hand."

"You really think it's that simple?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, it's the truth! This is no different that Skate Detroit, this is no different from any other competition. Do whatever you normally do. It'll calm you down. I promise."

"Ymir, please. Now isn't the time to take risks."

Ymir leaned back. It was hard to tell in the dark, but there was a glimmer in her eyes. Hurt? Pain? She crossed her arms. Krista shifted until she freed her legs from Ymir's weight.

"Please, just trust me." Ymir's voice dropped in volume until it was barely a whisper.

"What?"

"Just try it," Ymir begged. "I hate seeing you like this. Where's the Krista I first met? The girl who went out for boba in the middle of the night in a city she didn't know? Where's the girl that jumped a quad against her coaches explicit directions? The girl who went skating in Detroit because she wanted to? I want that girl back."

"You think eating popcorn is going to get her back?" Krista leaned against her pillows.

Ymir leaned forward and grabbed Krista's hand. "Yes. I do."

Krista laughed. Seeing Ymir so serious was paranormal. "Okay, okay. If you insist. The microwave is over there." Ymir squeezed her hand.

"Good." She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Krista never noticed before, but Ymir's legs were long. Was that where she got her height from?

Ymir grabbed a package of microwave popcorn from the counter. Krista hadn't even seen her bring it in. The blue light of the TV flickered on the paused screen as popping noises filled the room.  
Krista let her hair loose and shook it out. Her pajamas were already wrinkled. The blue fabric of her shorts was crinkled from her restless tossing and turning. She tried to smooth it out as she stretched out her legs.  
"Okay." Ymir crawled back onto the bed, placing the bowl between them. She faced Krista, playing the movie.

Krista took a handful of popcorn to munch on as the commercials finished up. The screen faded to black. Bright flares of orange and yellow lit up the screen as a lion's mane pierced the dark.

"Is that-" Krista leaned in, squinting.

"Narnia," Ymir confirmed. "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, specifically."

Krista hadn't seen that in ages. Not since - "I knew you picked your free skate song from this movie. When we were in Barcelona, you said it was because it made you feel like a hero. It would be nice for you to remember how that felt."

Krista couldn't believe it. Not only had Ymir remembered her conversation, but she'd thought of the perfect gift. "I loved this movie," Krista said. Ymir looked up at her. Where Krista had propped herself onto a sitting position, Ymir opted to lie down, supporting her head on her arm.

"Did I make a good choice?" Ymir asked.

"The best."

"So, what I always wanted to know, the battle sequence you picked the song from, which character do you see yourself as?" Ymir asked. "Are you a Susan? Or a Lucy?"

"Aslan." She said automatically. "I've always liked Aslan."

"The lion?"

"He’s the most sacrificing character. Everyone likes him. I wanted to be like that when I was younger."

"Furry." Ymir coughed into her elbow.

"Ymir!" Krista sat up shocked.

"Furry," Ymir repeated.

Krista grabbed a pillow from behind her neck and whacked it onto her face. "Hey!" Ymir's protests were quickly muffled as the pillow beat down again and again.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Ymir rolled away, almost falling off the mattress. "I give up!"

Krista pulled back, the pillow tight to her chest. Ymir settled back in to continue the conversation. "So you wanted to be popular?"

"I wanted others to remember me as someone who they liked. Don't you ever get that feeling?"

Ymir scrunched her nose. “No. I live for myself. Who gives a damn what people think of me when I’m gone? I’m dead, it won’t matter. All I want is to live a life I can be proud of.”

Krista sat back. Could that even be possible? To be someone who didn't care what others thought?

A muffled shout of triumph tugged her out of her thoughts. A pillow smacked into her face in a flurry of white. Ymir stood over her, pillow drawn to attack again. The same wicked smile flickered over her lips. "Payback!"

"Hey-" Her protest was cut off as the fabric slapped against her chest. Ymir leaned forward, pressing the pillow into Krista's chest, trapping her.

"Admit it. I win." Ymir leaned in, close enough to count every freckle on her nose. Krista's heart skipped a beat. Swirls of black and gray highlighted Ymir's brown eyes. Had her eyelashes always been that long? Krista's stomach turned.

"Okay, okay, I admit it. Now get off of me."

"Sweet victory." Ymir rolled over and flopped back onto the mattress. Even though she'd won, there was a hint of disappointment in her tone. Her eyes shimmered as if tears were welling in them. Had she said something wrong? Ymir drew her knees to her chest and focused on the movie. Krista let it slide, nibbling on a handful of popcorn.

On the screen, Lucie wandered through a snowy wasteland. A pole hung in the corner of the screen that marked the entrance to Narnia. A satyr in a red scarf galloped by. "Hey," Ymir turned back to Krista. "Since you're a furry, I have to ask: Do you think that guy's hot?"

"I'll throw the popcorn at you." Krista snapped.

Ymir opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, daring her to make the shot. Krista snickered. She tossed a piece of the snack into the air. Ymir flinched as it hit her nose and rolled down her cheek. She picked it up at popped it into her mouth.

"Try again," Ymir said.

One kernel fell by Ymir's knee. One tangled in her tiny ponytail. Frustration bubbled in Krista’s stomach. She was a world class athlete, and yet she couldn't even make the shot to her friend's mouth?

She tossed a final kernel. Ymir caught it between her teeth, eyes dilating in surprise. She chewed it and swallowed. "We did it!" Ymir threw her arms into the air. Krista laughed.

"It only took five tries."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained." Ymir flicked a stray hair off of her face. "Try to do it again."

Krista threw a kernel at her. It bounced off of her chin and rolled down her shirt. Ymir shook it out. "At least we got one."

Her disappointment from earlier was gone, but the image of it still haunted Krista's mind. Was there something she had missed? A sign or signal? 

Ymir yawned. "I wonder what my dad's up to now."

"Didn't he tell you?" Krista raised an eyebrow.

"Nope. Most of the time he just up and runs. Maybe there was an event I didn't know about."

"If there was, no one told me," Krista said. "Which is...unlikely."

The movie flickered on, familiar scenes flashing before her eyes. Krista loved the movie, but for some reason, her eyes wouldn't stay on the TV. They kept drifting back to Ymir. Her hair had fallen out of its tie and hung around her shoulders. Krista wondered if it was as soft as it looked. She wanted to run a hand through it.

Instead, she grabbed a pillow and hugged it close. Ymir stretched out, her feet kicking over the edge of the bed. "Aren't there like, twenty sequels to this thing?"

"You've never seen it before?"

“Not in a long time. I tend to lean more towards….action or horror shows.” Ymir watched the movie unfold. 

"There's action at the end," Krista promised. She hated to think the movie would disappoint Ymir. "It's the scene that my music came from."

"Don't worry about it," Ymir said. "I'm not here to watch the movie."

Krista blinked. Had Ymir really been able to pick up her desperation? It was disheartening that her true emotions seeped through, but even better to know that Ymir didn't mind. "Then what are you here for?"

Her heart slammed in her chest. Ymir paused before answering. Her head rested on her hand, propped up on her elbow. She readjusted her position so she looked up "I'm here because a friend needed me."

"And you claim you only do things for yourself?" Krista laughed. Though she smiled, hearing Ymir call her a friend tugged at her heart. Why was it so bittersweet? The beginnings of a frown started to seep through her smile.

"Well, maybe it makes me very happy to support my friends. I'm not a terrible person, you know."

"Of course you aren't." Krista sunk down lower into the bed. She didn't like that Ymir seemed so far away.

"Your support is invigorating." Ymir snorted.

"I know that you like to do things for other people. You aren't so selfish that you ignore everyone around you: In fact, I think you're the exact opposite." Krista said. They'd completely lost track of the movie, but she didn't care anymore as she continued. "I think you're the definition of selfless."

"Is that so?" Ymir tapped her chin. "I distinctly remember telling you that I cut off my hair because it would make my mom angry. I travel around with my dad, no matter how much it complicates things, so that I can be happy. What about that is selfless?"

"You try to disguise it, and I don't know why, but you really are different than you make yourself out to be. You brought me flowers at Skate Detroit because you knew no one else would. You took me ice skating even though you hated it because you wanted to help me. You sent me a story that you'd never showed anyone else, you sent me youtube videos when I was sad. You took time out of your life to talk to me when I was about to breakdown. Ymir: You may be a lot of things, but selfish is not one of them."

"You have a fascinating take on my personality," Ymir said. "It's almost as if you've laid awake at night thinking about it." Heat rushed to her cheeks. Krista shoved her face into the crevice of her elbow and prayed Ymir didn't notice. "Rest assured, Krista Lenz, that I would not do those things for just anybody."

Hearing her full name, even from Ymir, bothered her. It stirred up an old thought that she had yet to bring to fruition, but one thing at a time. "And what is it that's so special about me?"

Ymir rolled onto her back. "You're not like other skaters I've met."

"That it? I'm different because I'm not like other girls?"

Ymir burst out laughing. "You didn't let me finish! Most skaters are pretentious. You're not. You have moments of self-doubt, but you know how to balance yourself out. You never think that you've pushed yourself far enough. Always looking forward to the next big thing. You never stay content. Some coaches say that's a flaw, but I have to disagree. I think it's one of the biggest advantages a skater can have. And it's not just in your skating. It seeps into every aspect of who you are."

Ymir paused, compiling a list in her head. "You're always up for a new challenge. You're fearless. Heck, you even agreed to teach me how to ice skate. Trust me, that tone of the most admirable things I've ever seen. Olympic skaters wouldn't come near me with a ten-foot pole." She chuckled. "No matter what, you refuse to break under pressure. Even when you parents told you that they would cut you off, you persevere. When faced with two options, you bartered your way into creating a third and saw it through. That's what makes you special. You aren't like other girls: You’re in your own league."

Krista didn't know what to say to that. "It sounds like I'm not the only one who lays awake at night thinking about it." She mumbled.

"Yeah, well, with the Prix coming up, it's all my dad talks about. I think I've had dreams of ice skating: For the record, I wasn't any good in those either." Ymir said.

Krista's mind wafted back to a thought from earlier. "When did you decide it was time to break out from what your parents wanted?" She asked. "When did you decide to cut your hair and travel with your dad?"

Ymir didn't skip a beat. "It was right around the time I realized I was gay." She said. "I guess I had a teenage rebellion awakening, but suddenly everything was clear. I knew what I wanted for my life, and I knew that it wasn't going to come true with my mom breathing down my back. Why?"

"I told you that if I win the bet with my parents, I get emancipated, right?" Ymir nodded. “Well, I was thinking, I want to change my name too.”

“Change it?” Ymir arched an eyebrow. “Why? Krista’s such a beautiful name.” 

“But it isn’t….me.” Krista clenched a fist. “Krista Lenz is the name of a girl who lived in Kansas. A girl whose parents are multi-millionaires. Krista is a trust fund child. She has nothing incredible about her besides her parents. Krista should go to business school and inherit the companies.” 

Ymir watched her rant with wide eyes. There was no judgment in them: Instead, a clear understanding. A rush of relief chilled Krista’s speeding heart. She’d never mentioned her name to anyone before, not even Coach. “What do you want to change it to?” Ymir asked.

“Historia. Historia Reiss.” Krista said. “Historia isn’t like Krista. She’s brave and smart and funny. She makes her own way in the world. She carves her own path. Historia is a champion figure skater. She can face the odds and win regardless of whether or not anymore stands beside her.” Tears welled in Krista’s eyes. Even though she was used to it, the fact that her parents weren’t there to support her stung. This was the biggest moment in her life, and they were in Kansas somewhere, probably finalizing her enrollment in business school.

Ymir reached out at grabbed Krista’s hand. Her smile was warm, inviting. “I’ll always be there to watch you….Historia.”


	7. Rostelecom Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krista gears up to show the world what she can do. More than ever, she must overcome steep competition, nerves, and mounting pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got an update ready for you guys! I'm so sad SNK season 2 ended already, but at least we only have a year left for season 3, right? .....Right?

The movie passed by in a blur, scene after scene slipping away in a monotonous haze. Everything faded to gray except the drone of Ymir's voice and the heat of her skin. What had Krista done to deserve a friend like this? 

There it was again. The bitter, metallic taste on her tongue when she thought of Ymir as a friend. Why was it so hard for her to say that word? "I haven't asked you about your story in a while." Krista sat up, eyes wide. Ymir was so invested in her passion. She had to return the favor. "How is it going?"

Ymir sighed. Her eyes fluttered shut as her lips turned down. "I'm stuck," she admitted. "Have you ever had writer's block before?

Krista shook her head. "I'm not a writer."

"Nevermind, then. You probably think it'll sound crazy." Ymir opened her eyes again. A shimmer of water sparkled in them. Disappointment? Pain?

"Describe it to me." Krista leaned in. "Make me understand."

Ymir snorted. Her fingers grasped Krista's wrists. "Okay." She paused to collect her thoughts. "It's like....when your skating, do you ever have moments when you're choreographing something new, and a move just isn't turning out right?"

Ages ago, in New York City, Krista stood on the floor of her apartment, practicing moves to a song she'd just heard. Every once and awhile, she would catch a glimpse of herself and cringe. A spin or jump she'd jotted down didn't execute like it did in her head, and she'd have to tweak it. "Yeah."

"So, imagine that," Ymir said. "But once you notice the move is off, you can't tell what's wrong with it. You don't know if it's the way your arms move, the timing, or the placement of the move: You just know it's wrong. You can't fix it, so you try to replace it. But everything you replace it with is just as bad, or even worse. So you try to skip ahead in the program or go back to work on another piece, but suddenly your muscles can't move. You're not an ice skater: You're a dying duck trying to scramble to shore on a frozen lake.”

Krista tried to picture that. A whirl of feathers and beaks and broken wings flashed before her. She scrunched her nose. "Ew."

"The thing about writer's block is, you want to write. You want to create and inspire, but you....can't. You're drained of any creativity. You have no idea how to undo it, or how to get better. You're lost."

It sounded awfully familiar. Krista bit her lip. Maybe she didn't know what writer's block felt like, but what Ymir described was the soundtrack to her life. "You know, maybe I can help."

"Really?" Ymir looked up. A stray piece of hair fell over her eyes. Krista reached up to brush it away but pulled her hand back at the last second. Heat flooded her cheeks. "When I was lost in my skating, when I failed my jumps and had no idea what to do, you brought me your dad's notes. You pulled me up and gave me a new perspective. Let me return the favor."

"Okay." She pulled her phone out from the waistband of her shorts, scrolling through the document until she found what she was looking for. "I think I know what the root problem is. I just don't know what to do about it."

"What is it?" Krista looked over her shoulder.

"It's this part." Ymir pointed to the screen. "Making it into the Olympics is the whole point of the story, right? But it feels too easy. I need more to get in between her and her goal."

Krista thought back to all the trouble she'd gotten herself into trying to make it into the Prix. Her situation wasn't different from the fictional one. "What kind of obstacles do you already have in place?"

"I haven't changed it since you read it over. It's the usual, good competition, nerves, a flubbed jump or two." Ymir rested her chin on her palm. "But that feel cliche."

Krista tapped her chin. As a skater, those were the obstacles she'd had to face. There wasn't much she could add from her own experience. But other skaters faced other challenges. The image of Coach Drain's scared ankle flashed in her mind.

Have you considered giving her an injury?" Krista asked.

"Like a broken ankle?" Ymir asked. "Dad says those are common among skaters. I hadn't considered that."

"Did your dad ever mention Coach Drain?" Krista asked. How could she have not known about his accident? She knew he was a champion skater who was once at the top of the game. But he had skated in a time before she was watching the sport. Krista had never bothered to look him up.

"Like, talk about him?" Ymir scratched her head. "Not that I know of. Why?"

Krista relented the story of his downfall. "Maybe," she finished, "there's a way you could work that into your novel."

Ymir rubbed her hands together. A mischievous glint bounced off of her eyes, her smile crooked. "Give my main character a seemingly career ending injury right as she's about to reach the height of her career? That is...evil. I love it."

"Won't you have to re-write the entire ending?" 

"Not if I include a miraculous recovery!" Ymir shouted. Her finger pointed to the ceiling in triumph. "Just when it seems all hope has been lost, when everything has gone wrong and can't go back, I'll hit them with the awe-inspiring recovery!" Ymir slammed her fist into her palm. Her energy was infectious: Krista's legs buzzed with the desire to jump around the room

"I like it."

"Rule number one: Never leave the reader disappointed." Ymir crossed her arms. "You are a genius, Historia. First, you solve my conflict problem, and now I have an even more unlikely hero."

"I'm glad I could help?" She shrugged. The mind of writers was a curious and unfamiliar place to her. Today she saw something not many people did. Ymir, in her natural state, passionate and unafraid, ready to take on the world. Krista didn't want it to end.

Ymir leaned into the pillows. Her cheeks were flushed with a light pink undertone. "I have to write this down," she said. Her chest rose and fell unevenly.

"Here." Krista handed her the phone. 

The movie faded into oblivion, the screen black. They'd missed the ending. Krista didn't bring up the fact it had ended. If she mentioned it ended, Ymir didn't have a reason to stay. She would leave.

Krista didn't want her to leave.

Even if they were on separate ends of the bed, Ymir engrossed in creating a whole new world, all Krista wanted was to stay at her side.

The taping of her fingers against the screen lulled Krista into a state of ease. Her shoulders relaxed. Her eyelids dropped. Why were they so heavy? 

Krista didn't remember falling asleep. There were no dreams, no whispers of consciousness. Just a quiet darkness.

*******  
A loud rap split her eardrums. Krista shot awake, eyes blurry. "Krista? Are you there?" Coach Drain knocked on her door again. "Are you ready?"

Krista blinked. She couldn't gather her thoughts. "What?" A yawn elongated her words.

"You weren't answering your phone. Did you sleep through your alarm again?" She glanced at the clock. Adrenaline spiked through her veins. Her heart jumped in her chest. Crap. She had an hour left to get ready.

An hour to prepare for the biggest skate of her life.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. How could she have forgotten to set an alarm? 

"What's going on?" Next to her, something shifted in the sheets. Ymir popped up. Her hair stuck out in all directions, brown tufts defying gravity. Her phone lay forgotten at her side.

"Ymir? Did you fall asleep too?"

"Crap!" Ymir grabbed her phone and checked the time. "My dad's going to kill me."

"Krista?" Coach asked again.

"I'll be out in a little while!"

She had no idea where to start. Should she shower? Was there even time to shower? Or should she go straight into hair and makeup? She tried to take a deep breath but it caught in her throat. There was no time to deal with panicked emotions. She needed a plan.

Ymir crept to the door, straining her neck to look through the peephole. "Is he gone?" She whispered.

Krista nodded. Coach Drain wouldn’t think anything of her messed up schedule. She tended to bend the rules of time more often than she’d like to admit. He would be waiting for her in the lobby.

Ymir shoved her phone into her waistband. Obscenities tumbled out of her mouth when the notifications lit up. "My dad called ten times last night. I have to go. Now."

"Wait!" Krista grabbed the DVD case from her bedside table. "Here." she pressed it into Ymir's hands with shaky fingers.

"Right, thanks."

Ymir darted out the door. "Hang on!" Ymir sprinted halfway back from the hallway and flung her arms around Krista. Her fingers squeezed between her shoulder blades. “Good luck today.”

Krista's heart leaped in her chest. She could feel every nerve in her body press against Ymir's. She was warm, like the sun on a bright afternoon. Krista buried her nose in the crevice of Ymir's shoulder. She smelled like detergent and cinnamon. "Thanks," Krista whispered. If she held on tighter, maybe Ymir wouldn't leave. She didn't want her to go. Krista wanted to stay like that forever.

Ymir shifted her weight, her arms sliding away. "I'll be watching," she promised.

When she left, the tiniest bit of warmth left with her.

*************

"Are you ready?" Coach spoke sharply, staring straight ahead at the TV monitors pinned to the wall.

Krista exhaled, tightening the laces of her skates. "As ready as I'll ever be." She wiggled her toes. The pressure of her laces bit into the skin. Perfect. The tightness of a skater's blades was one of the simplest skills in ice skating, but one of the most important and often overlooked. Too tight, and you would get blisters and pain for your entire performance. Too loose and- Krista looked down at Coach's ankle. Too loose and you would find yourself in the ER.

"Who's on now?" She strained to see around his shoulder. The backstage area of the Rostelecom Cup rink was closed off to most people.Competitors, coaches, and a few others were allowed in the area. Krista had a moment of silence, peace, and quiet for herself. Hanging from the wall, a flat screen TV projected the events of the competition live.

Coach ran a hand across his chin. His smile was set in a grim line. Purple rings sank into the skin underneath his eyes. From the looks of it, he hadn't slept much either. "Annie's about to perform."

On instinct, her fingers curled into a fist. Every skater deserved the spot they had on the ice - including herself, but Krista couldn't help but despise Annie. She was one of the best in their league. And right now, she stood between Krista and her medal. Her freedom.

Krista tried not to hate anyone as a general principle. Everyone had good in them, and the ability to do bad things. Everyone had their own motives she could never understand. But right now, she really, really hated Annie.

"I don't suppose your muse is going to be here today." Coach Drain murmured into his hand.

"What?"

“The one who always comes to practice. Ymir. The girl you say helps you skate better when she’s in the crowd? Will she be here today?”

Krista set her shoulders back. “She’ll be there.” 

“Good. We need all the help we can get if we want to surpass Annie.”

His faith in her was astounding. The corner of Krista's mouth twitched in a grimace. Her fingers curled into a fist. As much as she wanted to have the courage to face Annie head on, Coach was right. In skill, she was no match for her. The only hope Krista had was a more emotional performance. Watching her, she could see the major flaw in Annie's skating.

Annie's skates focused on technical points. Everything from the type of jumps to the placement of them was strategically meant to gain the highest amount of points. Many sportscasters and fans thought it made Annie superhuman, but the truth was, even for someone as high level as Annie, a routine like that was taxing. Nailing all the jumps and spins perfectly required both mental and physical strength. Every ounce of Annie's focus was on keeping her skate in working order. There was no story. No emotion.

Her skates were high in technical points, which often won out in the end, but Annie lacked the other greatest pull of skating - Storytelling. Her movements were emotionless. There was no connection to the audience. 

The cameras followed Annie's every move. Never once did they move from her body. They filmed from different angles, meant to capture the magic of the skate as best they could, but Krista couldn't get invested in the skate. She didn't feel a part of the world, but like she was watching someone else.

Krista stared at the ground. Her white skates shone under the blue lights. She didn't have the technical points to beat Annie, and she lacked the skill to take her head on, but when all was said and done, she had one important advantage.

Emotion. Love. 

She could gain some points back if she could get the audience on her side. Tell a story, pull the judges in. Somewhere in the mass of people packing the rink, Ymir was watching. Maybe it was true that Krista had never been on a date, never kissed anyone, never said a three letter sentence that changed lives, but she had something else. She had someone who was at her side no matter what. Someone who sacrificed everything for her, who admired and respected her as an equal. Who believed in her. In the end, wasn't that what love was about?

It all came down to right here, and right now. Maybe no one would know but her, but she promised that as soon as she stepped out on the rink, she wouldn't tell a fictional story, a hypothetical. This program, from beginning to end, was her story. Her’s, and Ymir's.

"I can do it."

"What?" Coach looked up from the TV. "What'd you say."

Krista forced a smile onto her face. Somehow, when she thought of Ymir, it didn't make it that hard. "I'm going to do it. I'll qualify for the final, Coach. I'll make it happen."

"Krista, I know what the final means for you." Coach clasped a hand around her shoulder. "But the last thing I want it for you to destroy your love for skating by focusing on what your parents want."

"Don't worry." Krista had spent ages under rules and regulations. Her entire life was planned out by her parents. It was time she took a page from Ymir's book and destroyed their expectations. "I'm doing this for me. I'll beat Annie. No - I won't just beat her. I'll make her embarrassed to ever show her face on the ice again. We've worked harder than any skater or coach here today, and I'll prove it." Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but the closer it came for her to go on the ice, the more confident she felt. Annie's face flashed by on the TV screen. Her black dress, which Krista had once admired, was dull and faded. Her blonde hair, pulled up into a bun, was predictable. Plain.

"Do you hear me, Annie? I'm the Queen of the ice now. Are you ready to be dethroned?"

 

 

******

Breath in, breathe out. A count of three and the music started.

Her legs pumped against the ice. It was second hand, pure muscle memory. She had one goal. To show the world her story.

Her eyes glazed over the crowd until they landed on a freckled familiar face. Ymir sat on the edge of her seat, eyes wide. For an instant, their gazes met. A million words passed between them.

Do you know I'm doing this for you? Krista thought. Do you know what you mean to me? She winked as she twirled away.

Her skate was no longer a performance or work of fiction. It starts slow. The chance encounter that starts a chain reaction of events. For Krista, that encounter was a two-minute exchange with a pushy reporter.

Then things pick up: Events unfold one after another until you look back and wonder, 'how could that have been me?' Boba tea, a jacuzzi at midnight, a practice session, a late night skate in the middle of a city. One thing after the other, and then you're buying them flowers, sleeping over, falling asleep with their face on your mind and waking up hearing their voice.

That was Krista's love. That was her story. Maybe she couldn't express it in words, in writing, in speech, but Krista could project it to the entire world through her skate.

The best part was that their story was far from over.   
The words of sportscasters faded in and out of her ears. Shocked faces passed by in a blur. People shouted their support from the sidelines, but only one voice mattered.

When Krista could find Ymir's face again, she had completely changed. Her eyes glimmered. Tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. A pink flush tinted her cheeks. Her hands clasped over her mouth, but the edges of a smile peeked through. She did know. 

Krista struck her final pose as the song reached the end note. Silence. For a moment, no one dared make a noise. Her chest rose and fell in short gasps. She couldn’t gather enough air, but in the best sort of way. The way that told her she’d left everything she had in her on the ice. That said she poured her heart into the performance. The kind that ensured that no matter her rank, she would have no regrets.

Her legs shook. Exhausted, she tried not to fall over. Did the audience normally take this long to react? Every second passed in slow motion. If she wanted, she could look at the face of every person in the stands. They all wore the same expression. Mouths agape, chins on the floor. Eyes the size of saucers. Most were shocked, some impressed. A handful looked confused, including the sportscasters. One adjusted his microphone, stuttering to find words to say.

Finally, with a hint of disbelief, he said, “Was that even the same Krista we’ve seen before?” He shoved a hand through his hair. 

In the box, his partner slammed his hands down on the desk, leaning over the edge to get a better look from the window. A laugh shook his shoulders. “You better believe it is! Everyone brushed me off when I said to keep an eye on her today, but look whose laughing now! Those gamblers in the audience are shaking in their boots. I’ve always said she’s a skater that’s never reached her full potential, but I think tonight she's proved me wrong and I LOVE IT.”

Krista made a habit of tuning out the sportscasters. In most cases, they were more annoying and critical than helpful, but she couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. Applause exploded across the audience. People hollered from the sidelines. 

Are you watching, Annie? This is how you skate.

True, her hair might be a little more messy than usual, her makeup more rushed, but she didn’t regret an ounce of last night. Popcorn be damned, Ymir had helped her reach a new height. 

There were a million things she wanted everyone to know. Today, she hoped that she had said at least some of them. And maybe, maybe, there was even a small chance her parents would believe her now. Could they see how much skating meant to her? To the people who watched? Would they be proud of her now? 

If they weren’t, then she didn’t care. She didn’t need a blessing from them to keep telling her story.

“Krista.” Coach Drain stood on the sideline, nodding his head to the kiss and cry. Her heartbeat caught in her chest. Though she had done everything she could, this was the moment of truth. Her performance was in the hands of judges now. Would they be swayed like the audience was? Were they impressed by her? Or would she fade in comparison to Annie? 

Coach handed her the warmup jacket she’d left on the sidelines. The blue and white blended into the Rostelecom Cup logo. She shrugged it over her shoulders as she took a seat on the bench.   
“Are you going to tell me what that was?” Coach asked.

Krista bent over and loosened her skates. Blood rushed back into her toes. She flexed her foot, staring at the ground. “What was what?” A loose strand of hair fell over her eyes. She tried to focus on Coach, but her mind kept wandering back to the ice. How much longer until her score was calculated? Was it higher or lower than her previous record? Would it be enough to beat Annie?

“I’ve never seen you skate like that.” Coach said. “I could feel you. It was more than storytelling, more than emotion. You were sending a message, and everyone here heard it loud and clear.” 

“I had motivation.” Krista sat back. The blue lights of the stadium didn't seem as bright now. That was the thing about being on the ice. The lights always reflected off of the cold surface. Some skaters permanently ruined the vision. Most of the pros wore contacts or glasses, it got so bad. Before, everything looked like it was in a haze of bright flashing lights. Now, she could see clearly.

By the backstage exit, Krista caught sight of Annie. She leaned against the doorframe, lips pursed in a tight line. Her arms crossed over her black warmup jacket. The tight bun in her hair was as crisp as ever. Her eyes bore into the jumbotron. Annie was waiting to hear her score. 

“Motivation? That’s what you're calling this?”

“Well, what would you call it?” On the screen, bits of her performance replayed. The music was muted, letting the sportscasters discuss the results over the intercom. 

"That quad salchow, it’s hard to believe that only a few months ago we watched Krista tank the very same jump. From a total wipeout to total perfection. I’m in shock.” The first caster still struggled to regain his footing. 

“I've seen motivation. I’ve seen skaters who get bursts of inspiration, bursts of passion, heck, I’ve seen skaters slam three energy drinks before going onto the ice to help them get ahead. I’ve seen skaters pressure themselves to the point of a mental breakdown, all to get the best results they could. And none of them, Absolutely none of them, have ever come close to what you did today. I’ve been there. I’ve had my moments of luck. But what you did was pure superhuman.”

 

Krista bit her lip. Was she willing to tell Coach about Ymir? Sure, he knew they were close, he knew she watched Krista practice. He had certainly seen Ymir bring her flowers, and he could probably guess Ymir had something to do with today. But was Krista ready to admit the full truth to him? When she hadn't even told Ymir? She wanted Ymir to be the first to hear the confession out loud.

She was saved from having to respond when the sportscasters spoke again. “The scores for the United States’ Krista Lenz are in!” 

A hush fell over the audience. Across the rink, Annie leaned forward. For a brief second, their eyes met. Anger flashed across Annie’s face.

Coaches fingers tightened around Krista's shoulders. Her toes curled inside her skates. The room froze as the announcers shuffled around their papers. "Ninety-nine points. A new personal record for Krista. She is currently in first place."

What? Krista shot upright. On the big screen, the leaderboard shifted. Annie fell from number one to number two as the American Flag flashed over the screen.

"Motivation, eh?" Coach whispered. A sly smile crept onto his face. "You really did it."

Krista did the math, watching Annie sulk into the backstage area. One point. One single point was all that separated them.

Reporters rushed into the kiss and cry, drowning out the sound of the announcer's intercom. How many people still had to skate? Three? Krista stood on her tiptoes, trying to see around the mass of electronics that swarmed her. Who was on the ice now?

"Krista!" The voice of one reporter rose above the others. Deep, loud, and familiar. Mike brushed by the others, holding a pen and paper. His eyes were dark, circles forming underneath them. He must have had a late night. According to etiquette, she should clear the kiss and cry before answering questions and wait backstage for the interviews. Etiquette had gone out the window long ago.

"Hey, Mike."

She didn't know if she was on first name basis with the reporter, but if it bothered Ymir's dad, he didn't show it. "What was different out there?" He asked.

Krista spotted his notepad tucked away under his arm. That must be the one he used to keep track of the performances on. What did it say tonight?

"I had a moment of genius," she said. Video recorders whirled to life. She was on film now, but the words kept rolling off her tongue.

"I know what everyone thought of me. No one thought I could make it very far in the Prix. I have something to prove to them, and I went onto the ice today with that in mind. I hope I've made my message clear."

"Speaking of message," Mike pulled out his notebook. It was still turned to her page. "Everything about your skate felt different tonight. A different tone, a new story. More personal. What do you say about that?"

"I'm glad you noticed." Pride welled in her chest. So she had told her story. The audience knew. "I've changed the narrative. You said it felt more personal, and that's because it is. I know what everyone says about my skating topics, and at some point, I had to accept that the current story I was telling didn't have enough of my own experiences in it."

"So would you say this new energy we saw is your personal story coming to life?"

"I'd say that's accurate." For as insightful as Mike could be, Krista had to laugh at how much went over his head. True, it was Krista's story, but it was also Ymir's. Either Mike was completely oblivious, or he hadn't managed to put two and two together.

"Is this your way of saying you're in love?" Mike scribbled something down on his paper.

"That's enough, Mike." Coach interjected. Camera flashes blinded her as he pushed off of the bench. "We really should clear the area for the other skaters. Krista will be taking more questions after the competition at the designated time, so please wait until then." His hand pressed against her back, quietly ushering her backstage.

The door closed behind them. Krista craned her neck to catch one last fleeting glance of the rink. For once, she'd actually wanted to answer reporter's questions. Why would Coach rush her out? "What was that about?"

"You're still a kid." Coach Drain pinched his nose. Again, Krista marveled at the fact that there wasn't a scar there. "I don't like when reporters take that line of questioning with kids."

"I'm almost seventeen." Krista crossed her arms.

"It's a tricky age. You should keep your personal life out of the media as much as possible. If you don't keep your public and private life separate, it'll come back to haunt you later."

"Right..." Krista trailed off. Was there something else Coach hadn't told her about his career? Was he speaking from personal experience? "Could you give me an example?"

"You're more into pop culture than me, Krista. I'm sure you can think of a few examples off the top of your head." Coach evaded her gaze. “The Cardasians, or whatever.”

“The Kardashians,” Krista corrected. "I meant an example from the skating world? We're not exactly Tom Brady's, if you now what I mean."  
Sure, thousands of people tuned in to watch them skate. Krista had more Instagram followers than the everyday teen, but she was far from an A-list celebrity.

In his pocket, Coach's phone buzzed. "Hang on." Coach held up a finger. He dug around and pulled the phone out. His eyebrows scrunched together. "I should take this."

"Who is it?" Krista craned her neck to see around his shoulder, but he tucked the phone back into his pocket before she could catch a name. 

"I'll be by the lockers if you need me. Try not to get in trouble for five minutes." Coach advised.

Saved by the bell, Krista thought bitterly. Why wouldn't he answer her questions? And why was he so cryptic all the time? She definitely had to Google him later.

"I'm surprised you keep him around." A thickly accented voice spoke from behind her. Krista whirled around.

Leaning against the doorframe, Annie Leondhart stood with her arms jammed into the pockets of her jacket. She'd changed out of her costume, and now a black jumpsuit covered most of her skin. The German flag was sewn on the sleeve. A dark hood covered her hair, casting a ghostly shadow over her face. Krista clenched a fist.

"What do you mean?"

"A coach like that, I would have dumped long ago." She spoke slowly, elongating her words to counteract the accent. "You've been skating under him for how many years? And you barely had any success until today."

Krista had heard stories about Annie. Competitors described her as ruthless and cold hearted. Intimidating. Somehow, Krista thought she would be taller.

"Don't talk about Coach Drain like that." She snapped.

Annie threw her head back. "Ha!" A rosy hue tainted her cheeks. "What are you going to do about it?"

Sasha once said that Annie used threats and trash talk as a way to psych out her opponents. To Krista, it was a cowards move, but she had to prove to Annie that she wouldn't back down.

"I'll let my scores speak for themselves." Krista drew her shoulders back. “I’ll snatch the gold medal out from between your fingers, and I’ll wave at you from the rink of the Grand Prix Final.”

Annie laughed again. "You think that little upset you had today scares me? One point is all that separates us, Lenz. It isn't that hard to make up one point."

"It's hard to make up for the stick up your ass, though. Just watching you skate looks painful." 

Annie opened her mouth to reply, but a deeper voice cut her off. "Annie." Her coach appeared from around the corner.

Krista didn't often notice other coaches, but Germany's Leondhart was hard to miss. He towered above almost everyone Krista had met, including Mike and Coach Drain. His jaw was angled and his cheekbones sharp, like they were carved out with a knife. Thin lips and a large nose were balanced out by thin, wiry eyebrows that faded from black to gray. A beanie hid a growing bald spot on his head. Most noticeable of all: He was Annie's dad.

Mr. Leondhart let out a string of German. Annie deflated. Her shoulders hunched over, and her back slumped, head hanging. From what she heard, he was merciless when dissecting her skates, which often led to her being chewed out in public. 

Annie spat a line back to him, but it sounded half-hearted. Mr. Leondhart turned back the way he came. Annie followed. Just before she disappeared for good, she leaned back to face Krista. "I won't forget what you've said."

"Good! And remember what I said when you go to a doctor next time too. Maybe there's a way they can have that thing surgically removed." Annie threw one last sour look over her shoulder before she vanished.

"What's getting surgically removed?" A mass of red and brown hair appeared as Sasha stuck her head around the corner. She wore her team USA jacket over her sapphire dress.

"The stick that's up Annie's butt." 

"Finally, someone said it." Sasha leaned against the wall. "I take it you didn't get along well with her either?"

"Does anyone?"

"No. And that's the way she likes it. I think her dad trained her to be that way around the competition. It's a shame, but I find it hard to have sympathy."

"What're you doing here?" Krista nodded to the hallway. The backstage area was fairly empty. Not many people passed through.

"I'm skating when the Juniors finish up. Figured I'd get a head start on warm-ups." She pressed the toe of her sneaker into the wall, stretching out her leg.

"How are you feeling about it?"

Sasha groaned. "My coach put me on this new pre-skate diet. You know what it consists of? POTATOES. Nothing but potatoes!"

"What?"

"I mean, I like potatoes. They're good. They're versatile. Healthy, even. But I've had nothing to eat in the past twenty-four hours but potatoes! If I see another one, I'm going to puke." Sasha slammed her fist against the wall.

"Do you think it's helped?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't pay attention enough to feel a difference." It was true. Krista recalled that when they'd trained together, Sasha could eat anything she wanted with no repercussions. She had a crazy fast metabolism that let her eat entire pizzas by herself. Coach Drain had fought against it at first, trying to get Sasha on a clean diet for optimal performance, though he gave up when her cravings hit.

Sasha's cravings were something fierce. She had attacked Krista once for unwrapping a kit-kat in her vicinity when she was forbidden from sugar. 

Krista decided it was best to divert her attention from the food. "How do you feel about the competition?"

Sasha pulled her arm across her chest. "It's going to be tough. In the Prix, it always is. There's no way of telling what scores you need to get into the final, and honesty? There's no predicting where you'll land in any given skate. You can just hope for the best."

"Any competitors worth noting?"

"Hard to say," Sasha said. "I haven't skated against any of them in recent years. Who knows where they're at skill wise now. There's one, though, that makes me nervous."

"Who?"

"Hanji Zoe. She's known for eccentric skates and she's high energy. One of the oldest skaters in the league. It's her experience and her unpredictability that worries me."

What number skater is she?"

"Third, if I remember correctly. She represents Latvia."

"Hm." Krista had never heard of her. Then again, she kept up with Junior League skaters more than Seniors.

"You'll be watching, won't you?"

"Yeah."

"You should go find your coach and get changed. There are only two skaters left in your competition, and then we're up."

"Right." Whoever Coach Drain was on the phone with, it was taking a long time. She hoped something wasn't wrong.

Krista headed off for the locker room. If Coach didn't come back by the time she was done, she'd go looking for him. "Oh, by the way. Reiner saved you a seat. He seemed to hit it off with your freckled friend."

Ymir? Ymir and Reiner were hanging out? That was playing with fire. They were at constant risk to choke each other at a moments notice. 

“I'll be right there," Krista promised. "If you see Coach Drain, tell him I'm in the stands."

"Sure," Sasha closed her eyes. She dug into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a set of earbuds. 

Krista pushed the backstage door open and slid into the stands. She peered over the heads and masses of people. Normally Ymir was easy to spot from the ice, but among a sea of people, she blended in.

"Krista!" A low voice caught her attention. A few seats away, near the edge of the rink, Reiner and Ymir sat with a seat between them. All Krista could think was "Is that their get along chair?"

"Hey, guys." Krista slid into the spot between them. Neither had any visible markings. Perhaps they had managed to stay alive without her help.

Ymir threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you, His!"

His'. Historia. The nickname rang like bells in her ears. Beautiful. Krista had never had a nickname, but now that Ymir was calling her by the name she chose, Krista wouldn't have it any other way.

She leaned into the hug, wrapping her arms around Ymir's shoulders. "I couldn't have done it without you." She murmured. A strand of Ymir's hair tickled her nose.

In the frigid air of the rink, Ymir radiated heat. Krista didn't ever want to let go.

"Did Sasha send you our way?" Reiner interrupted. Krista had forgotten he was there. For a moment, she despised him for it.

She nodded silently, her head brushing Ymir’s shoulder. Ymir let go, Krista's heart sank.

"Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" 

"You're still in first if that's what you're asking, and I doubt any of the remaining juniors have the points to challenge that."

"I've never ranked that high in something like this." Krista pressed her fingertips to her temple. "It's surreal."

Ymir started to speak, but Reiner beat her to it. "Don't get comfortable. You still have one more skate to go. One point barely matters in the scheme of things, and Annie has a lot of tricks up her sleeve. Like they say: It's the free skate that counts." Krista tried not to let the words hurt. Reiner was just offering advice, and good advice at that. He was an experienced skater with a lot more knowledge than her, but Krista’s face still fell. 

"I think first place is incredible, even this early on." Ymir snapped.

"Of course it's great to be ahead," Reiner corrected himself. "All I'm saying is don't get too comfortable."

"His' can pull it off!" Ymir's fingers curled around her wrist protectively.

"I dunno who His’ is, but I do know that Annie is a fierce competitor. You'd best remember that."

Oh no. Krista felt the tension between them. She brushed Ymir's shoulder gently. "It's ok," She whispered. "He's trying to help."

Ymir's fingers tightened protectively. "Reiner, were you able to watch Annie's skate?" Krista desperately searched for a way to change the subject.

"Yeah," Reiner shifted his weight. He had on his warm-up jacket, but he wasn't wearing his skating costume underneath. Right. The men's skate wasn't until tomorrow. Reiner must have come to watch Sasha and her. "She has a curious approach to her programs. Emotionless."

"You would know about being emotionless," Ymir muttered under her breath. Krista dug her elbow into her side.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Krista bumped her knee against Reiner's. 

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"He doesn't want to skate against his boyfriend." Ymir sang, batting her eyelashes sarcastically.

"Bert's here?" Krista sat up. She had never been able to talk to the other skater for extended amounts of time. He was quiet, shy. She wished she could get to know him, especially since she helped set the couple up.

"Why does everyone assume Bert's my boyfriend?"

"Maybe it's because I saw you two kissing behind the lockers ten minutes ago." Ymir grabbed a drink from under her seat, taking a pointed sip as she looked Reiner dead in the eye.

"Who was Reiner kissing behind the lockers?" A pair of long legs stretched down into the seat next to him. Bertholdt slid onto the bench, a tired smile on his face.

"You," Ymir said.

"Well thank God. I'd be betrayed anyway else." Bertholdt shoved Reiner’s shoulder.

"I came here to have a good time, and honestly I feel so attacked right now." Reiner slid further down in his seat. "You're supposed to be on my side, you know."

"What good is blind loyalty?"

Huh. Bert normally only said one or two sentences per sitting. Did Reiner really make that much of a difference in his personality?

"I'll always be on your side," Ymir nudged Krista with her shoulder.

"I'm sure you will be." Krista rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay, maybe one or two sarcastic comments a day, but I have my limits, you know?" Ymir playfully tugged on a lock of Krista's hair. The elaborate hairdo she'd pinned for her skate had started to undo itself long ago. 

"Since I want to give you a proper introduction," Reiner drew her attention again. "Krista, this is Bertholdt. Ymir, Bertholdt."

"Hi," Bert raised his hand sheepishly. It was almost like he hadn't noticed they were there until now. His black hair was loose over his head, popping up in fluffy tufts. His eyes darted around constantly like he didn't want to focus on one place. A hint of pink flushed his cheeks, like he'd just come off the ice.

"What's up?" Ymir asked.

"You're Mike's daughter, aren’t you?" Bert asked. When Ymir nodded, he shuddered. "Mike scared the crap out of me when I was in the junior league."

Ymir's chest puffed out, pride lighting up her face as if she was glad to know her family was intimidating. "Any human contact terrified you when you were a junior," Reiner said.

"You're a pain in the ass," Bert rolled his eyes.

"Well, you would know all about that." Reiner raised an eyebrow. Bert turned the color of a tomato.  
Krista groaned. “TMI, dude.”

"Maybe we can be friends after all," Ymir snorted, shoulders shaking. Krista should have seen it earlier, but Ymir and Reiner did share their sense of humor.

Bert stammered to change the topic. "When does your friends Sasha go on?"

"Any minute now, the last junior just got their scores," Ymir observed. She lowered her voice so only Krista could hear. “And you’re still in the lead.”

 

"How'd your story go last night?" Krista asked.

"Oh!" Her eyes light up. "I started writing the new scenes. It's fitting together really well. The injury idea was great."

"I can't believe you fell asleep writing."

Ymir blushed. "Sorry about that. I don't remember falling sleep."

"Neither do I," Krista admitted. "It passed by in a blur."

"Well, you tell me: Was the popcorn worth it?" Ymir quirked the side of her mouth up.

“The entire night was,” Krista admitted. “I couldn't have done what I did today without it - thank you.”

"I had a feeling. Anytime you need a boost, just give me a call. I'll come over anytime you need me to."

"How does tonight sound?" Krista bumped her shoulder. "I'm suddenly craving popcorn."


	8. Rivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Rostelecom Cup winds to a close and Skate America kicks off, Krista turns a rival into a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there was a bit of a longer wait than usual! I went on a 10 day trip in the middle of July that was literally my dream since I was young, so that took up most of my free time. I'm back now, and ready to dive back into my writing!

“You know, it's funny." Ymir started. "I came over that night to watch Narnia with you and see the scene you chose your music from, but I have no memory of the actual movie."

Krista laughed, tightening her skates. "None?"

"I mean, I remember the beginning, but I guess I got distracted by the time your scene rolled around."

Krista flexed her ankles. Her laces bit into her toes. Good. That was how she liked them. "What distracted you?" She asked. She knew the feeling, though.

"You," Ymir said.

Heat flushed Krista's cheeks. "I'm distracting?"

"Annoyingly so. But, maybe I can come over again tonight to rewatch it," Ymir's voice dropped in volume, almost as if she were admitting a secret. 

“I’d like that.” Krista trained her eyes to the backstage TV. It was almost her time to shine. The free skate was where it mattered, as the older skaters would say

Coming in first in the short program was a blessing, but it was also a curse in disguise. Being first place meant that for today's free skate, she was the last to go on ice. It meant she got the last word, the last impression, but it also meant she had more time to worry. Krista stood up and brushed off her dress. It was immaculate, no wrinkles, stains, or crumbs, but just the feeling of the fabric under her fingers settled her nerves. "Annie's about to go on," Coach Drain noted from the TV.

Ymir exchanged a worried glance with him. Why wasn't he lecturing them? Technically, Ymir wasn't allowed backstage, but when she'd snuck through with her dad, Coach Drain didn't make anything of it. Normally he would make her use this time to focus, or mentally prepare or visualize, or whatever other "New Age," technique he'd read about in Sports Illustrated. 

Today, if Ymir's presence bothered him, he didn't show it. 

"Don't worry about her," Ymir said. "You beat her once, you can do it again."

Krista nodded. Even though she tried to take Ymir's words to heart, Reiner's advice echoed in the back of her mind. 'Don't get comfortable.'

Who knew what tricks Annie had up her sleeve?

"You should get ready to go out." Coach Drain interrupted. "Are you warmed up and stretched out?"

"'Course I am." She looked at the rink doors. She didn't want to go out yet. That meant leaving Ymir behind. Why did she have to go places Ymir couldn't follow?

"I'll go find my spot in the stands," Ymir whispered.

"Wait." Krista grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Ymir raised an eyebrow. "Can I..." Krista swallowed back a lump of nerves that clogged her throat. "Can I have a hug?"

She felt stupid asking. Childish. Who needed hugs at their age? But the warmth of her skin was a tempting call, beckoning. There was something comforting about Ymir's touch that soothed her nerves in ways Krista'd never felt before. She expected Ymir to brush it off as a joke. Laugh, maybe. Wish her good luck and vanish.

Instead, Ymir wrapped her arms under Krista's shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace. With the added height of her skates, Krista was tall enough to lace her arms around Ymir's neck and pull her in. Ymir's hand ran small circles between her shoulder blades.

"Anytime." Ymir lifted her up and swung her in a circle before setting Krista back on the ground. "Good luck."

It was enough to make her feel like she was floating. 

Until she turned around and saw Annie's score.

It was high. Almost impossibly so. Had she changed her jumps around for even more points? Looking at the number on the screen, Krista guessed she did. There was no other way, even for someone like Annie.

Even with her grace, Krista knew she couldn't match Annie's free skate rank. Her jumps weren't technical enough. In one smooth motion, Annie had regained her spot on the top.  
Someone bumped her shoulder. Krista looked up, grabbing the rail for balance. Annie grinned at her, cheeks flushed. Her free skate costume was a dark shade of red, the sleeves black. The signature ballet bun was still on her head, but her makeup seemed fancier this time around. A shimmer of gold glitter sat on her eyelids. "I tried to warn you." Annie stuck out her bottom lip pityingly. "I hope you weren't counting on making to the Final."

Krista counted to three, taking a deep breath before responding. "It isn't over yet."

She pushed past Annie to take her place on the rink

*******

"Will it be enough?" Krista asked. Her fingers threaded in and out of the corner of her shirt. The loose fabric stretched and pulled around her fingers. She knew better than to be so nervous. There was no way she could change the results now, so why worry? 

A haunting question whispered in the back of her mind. Could she have done better?

"It's like Reiner said. She had tricks up her sleeve." Ymir said. Her arm wrapped around Krista's shoulder and pulled her in. "Second place is nothing to be ashamed of."

Krista closed her eyes. "I'm not ashamed of how I performed." It was true. Though it didn't compare to her short program, her free skate was a powerhouse in its own right. She hadn't fallen at all during the course of it. The jumps and spins were cleanly executed. In the end, Annie had just barely edged ahead.

Ymir tugged on a loose strand of Krista's hair. The bleachers they sat on didn't separate out by seats, so Krista could wiggle as close to Ymir as she could get. She rested her chin on her shoulder, breathing in Ymir's scent. "I just..." It took her a moment to piece the words together. "Only the best of the best make it into the Grand Prix Final. Will second be enough to get me there?"

"It all depends on Skate America." The voice that answered wasn't Ymir's.

Annie slid down into the bleachers next to them. For once, her hair hung loosely over her shoulders, crisp and straight, like a halo. Krista had never realized how light it was, but Annie's blond was even paler than her's. Her eyes were more inviting now. Warmer.

Ymir's finger's tightened around Krista's shoulder, ready to spring into action. Krista placed her hand over Ymir's, quietly begging her to stay calm. "Annie. What're you doing here?"  
She'd changed out of her skating dress. A pair of ratty blue jeans and a gray hoodie took its place. "My dad stepped out to take a phone call, so I have to make this quick."

Krista waited as she continued. "He doesn't like me talking to the competition. He thinks if I talk to them, I'll start to like them, and if I like them, then I'll go easier on them. He thinks I'm better off hating them and having them hate me."

So the rumors were true. Krista recalled her conversation with the senior league skaters yesterday.

"I wanted to tell you, I'm impressed. I didn't expect much from you, but you took me by surprise."

What do you mean?" Ymir repeated Annie's statement with a fire on her tongue. Krista squeezed her fingers.

"Stop."

Annie leaned back, staring into the stadium lights. "I don't know how Skate America will go for you. Good, or bad? Ranked high, ranked low? On the podium, or off? Whether or not you make it to the Final all depends on that." Annie ran her thumb over her lip as if she was trying to hide her words from onlookers. "Krista, keep surprising people. Let's skate against each other again at the Final."

It was the closest thing to a verbal olive branch that Krista had ever seen. She smiled. "Next time, I won't get silver." It was a promise, like the one she'd told Annie before, but this time she didn't say it as an enemy. "You know, don't listen to your dad. You don't have to make enemies here."

Annie smiled at the ground. "He's probably done with his phone call by now." She stood up, walking towards the exit.

“Annie!” Krista called after her. “I’ll see you in the Final.”

*******

"Okay, okay." Ymir leaned forward in her seat, elbows resting on her knees. God, she looked stunning today. Even though her clothes were off brand and worn, she looked radiant. Dark blue jeans with white paint splatters and holes in the knees accentuated the curves of her legs. She wore a black tank top under an olive hoodie. It was simple, but it still made her heart slam into her chest.

"What do you think I would be like as an ice skater?" Ymir asked.

Krista tore her eyes away from the clothes. If Ymir noticed her staring, she didn't show it. She considered the question.

"You would be something entirely your own," Krista said. "You would have a style that no one else ever had before, and no one could replicate. Like you could skate to anything you wanted and pull it off by sheer confidence alone." Ymir raised an eyebrow, a smile flickering across her lips.

'What kind of music would I skate to?" Krista suspected Ymir was trying to distract her from the scores of earlier, but she didn't mind.

"Something that's not typical. Like Alternative. Something edgy. You'd stand out."

"You're saying I should skate to The Black Parade?"

"If that's what you're feeling," Krista laughed. "I don't think anyone would expect that."

"That feels a bit too dramatic." Ymir sighed.

"Really? You struck me as the kind of person to listen to Fall Out Boy nonstop."

Ymir leaned back. "Well, you're right about that. But deep down - like Marianas Trench deep down - I'd want to skate to something else."

"Like what?"

Ymir met her eye, holding her gaze with a playful intensity that threatened to burn a hole through her skin. "Secretly, I'm a hopeless romantic."

Krista's heart froze in her chest. Was Ymir trying to tell her something? "You are?"

"Totally. I'm a sucker for rom-coms. Bringing people flowers, stereotypical YA movie dates, the whole nine yards. I even have a type of person."

"A type? What would that be?"

"I have a thing especially for people that-"

"Krista!"

A shout in her ear interrupted Ymir's thought. They both went silent as Sasha sat down at Krista's side. "Congrats!" Sasha squeezed her shoulders. "Second place in your first Prix skate! That's huge!"

"Thanks." She tried not to be bitter towards Sasha. Though she had terrible timing, her intentions were good.

"Was that Annie that I saw you talking to earlier? And not physically fighting?" Sasha pulled away, eyebrows knit.

"She isn't so bad. Just misjudged," Krista smiled. She'd never really had a rival before. Maybe Annie could be the change of that. Someone who challenged your skill and pushed you even farther than before- that was what Annie could do for her.

"Whatever you say," Sasha shrugged, lips pursed in a dubious pucker. "Coach Drain sent me to go find you. Team USA is going to go have a get-together after everyone finishes their skates tonight. There's a Chinese restaurant downtown that's supposedly amazing."

"Oh." Krista looked at the floor. "I really appreciate it but I kind of already had-"

"No, it's okay," Ymir said softly. Her eyes were trained on the rink in front of her. "You should go. The team is like your family."

"I-

"Perfect!" Sasha shouted, throwing an arm around Krista's shoulders. "We'll see you later tonight, Krista! Congrats again on the medal."

Sasha was truly someone who knew no boundaries when it came to pride for other people. Krista hadn't been able to watch her skate, but Ymir recounted that she took a bad fall halfway through, knocking her from second place to off the podium. Sasha was uninjured, but with a fourth place ranking, her chances of making it to the GPF were slim.

Krista turned back to Ymir. "I'm sorry. I didn't know they were planning something tonight."

Ymir gave her loose grin. There was something tight about it, like her lips didn't want to stretch. "Don't worry about it. We can watch a movie any night. You only get invited to pro athlete parties once in a lifetime."

"Are you saying you think my career is doomed to be short lived?"

Ymir laughed. "Not what I meant, Krista. You should go. Get ready for your night out."

Krista squeezed Ymir's shoulder. "Thanks for understanding. I'll see you at Skate America, right?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

 

********

The Chinese joint was a short walk from the hotel. Krista braved it alone. The sidewalks stretched before her in open succession. This city was considerably less crowded than Barcelona or Detroit, but somehow she felt ten times more claustrophobic. The last few times she'd walked a city at night, Ymir had been at her side. Without her, there was a quiet emptiness. When she passed by pieces of street art or architecture, she would turn to point them out, only to remember Ymir was no longer at her side.

It was a void that nothing could fill. Ymir was right: Getting to eat with the rest of the American team was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but Krista couldn't help but wish she had stayed behind with Ymir. No one on team USA came close to her. Sasha was too kind, everyone else too distant. It was like Ymir was her crutch, someone she could borrow strength from when she needed it. Now, it was yanked away.

Krista paused in front of a restaurant sign reading: Golden City. Brights lights of red and gold lined the outside of the door. Next to the entrance, a sign had been placed on the sidewalk. "Closed for private event. Takeout available."

Krista double checked the address Sasha gave her. Was this the right place? Or was there another Chinese restaurant close to their hotel that was closed for another private event?

From inside the shop, a boy her age waved at her through the window. He had a ridiculous grin on his face and his hair was shaved down to the roots. The was a glint in his eye that told Krista he could be trouble, but the fun kind of trouble.

Connie Springer. Krista had heard of him a few times before. He was one of the nation's top junior male skaters.

So she was in the right place. Dang it. If she was at the wrong place, it would give her an excuse to go back to Ymir. Krista pulled the door open. The smell of spices filled the air, burning just under her nose. Cool toned lighting cast minimalistic shadows on the furniture. A few tables away from Connie, Sasha and Reiner sat at a booth together, drinking water in between a heated discussion.

"Krista! Long time, no see." Connie waved her down as soon as she entered.

"What, two years?" Krista thought back to the last time she'd spoke with him. It was ages ago, before he'd had to take a few months off of competition to make room for school. Connie had never been an exemplary student, and if there was one thing their parents had in common, it was a tight leash on academics. In fact, that was the only thing their parents had in common. From what he said, Connie's parents didn't care what he did with his free time or personal life so long as he kept his grades up.

It was part of the reason Krista had stopped talking to him. Jealousy wasn't her style, but Connie was a constant reminder of what her life could be like, if only she had a support group that actually cared about her. She'd never mentioned how it made her feel. It wasn't like Connie missed her much anyway. He was popular amongst other skaters.

"Hows your first time in the big leagues been?" A voice behind her asked. Krista turned around, only to find that Sasha wasn't talking to her. Another person stood at the entrance, removing a light jacket. Strawberry blond hair stuck out in a spiky ponytail.

"Exciting, to say the least." Petra Ral said, shaking the left sleeve of her coat off her arm. "And I haven't even gotten on the ice yet."

Krista raised an eyebrow. Huh? How could she be competing and not gone on the ice? Connie nudged her in the side. "Petra switched from singles skating to pair skating last year. Seems to be working out well for her."

Krista blinked. How much had she missed? A salty tear built up in the corner of her eye. This was it: The reminder of how new she was. Of how she was truly an outsider. She barely knew half these people. Faces milled around in the background that she couldn't even recognize.

"You hungry?" Connie asked. "They're setting up a buffet for us right now."

Krista shook her head. "I just want something to drink right now." Maybe an ice cold cup of water would clear her head.

Connie gestured to the chair across from him. She took a seat and unwrapped a straw from the paper. "I'm going to go get a plate. You sure you don't want me to grab anything?"

The chair next to her was empty. If Ymir were here, it wouldn't be. The warmth of her body would be a comfort. If Ymir were here, she would say Krista should get -

"Popcorn." Krista thought aloud. "Will you check to see if there's any popcorn?"

Connie raised an eyebrow. "I can check, I guess, but I doubt it."

"Thanks." 

"Is someone sitting here?" Petra appeared at her side, pointing to the empty seat. Krista wished she could say yes.

"No." She waved Petra to take it.

She pulled the seat in and reached for the water. "This is your first time at the Grand Prix too, isn't it?" Petra asked.

"Afraid so." Krista didn't mention that it could be her last. She didn't need to reignite the fears that she wouldn't be able to measure up.

"Do you like it?" Petra asked.

Krista shrugged. "It's harder than the other competitions, but I like it. It's challenging."

Petra smiled softly. "You always seemed like the type who liked a challenge."

"If you do things the easy way, you don't grow. Yoy don't learn anything or improve, you just stay stagnant. And when you stay stagnant, you fall behind."

"Spoken like a future Olympian." Petra let out a low whistle. "You take this seriously."

"You don't?" Krista raised an eyebrow. Any other athlete at their level would have understood what she said, Petra looked like she spoke a different language.

"Skating started out as a hobby for me. It still is, really. The college scholarships are a plus, and brand deals, that's not a bad deal. But this-" She gestured around them. "This isn't what I want to do for the rest of my life."

"Technically, pro-athletes retire around thirty, if not sooner." Krista pointed out. "That's far from your whole life."

Petra tugged at her sleeves. "Fair point. But skating isn't my passion. I actually wanted to be an actress. I guess my skating was discovered first." 

"Hmmm," Krista couldn't relate. Skating was her passion. She wasn't even sure that she had been "discovered" in any way.

"It's funny, seeing you alone," Petra said suddenly, setting down her glass of water. "Don't you normally have a friend with you? Tall. Dark hair? Probably listens to Fall Out Boy in her spare time and writes bad poetry?"

"Her writing is great!" Krista snapped. Petra raised an eyebrow, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. "I mean- ah- yes. Her name's Ymir. Her dad is one of the junior league reporters. And she actually writes novels - of great quality - when she isn't busy."

"Where is she now?" Petra wrinkled her nose.

"At the hotel. We were going to hang out, but Sasha invited me here instead."

"Well, I'm glad you can find time to spare for your other friends." Connie reappeared, setting a bowl of half-burnt popcorn in front of her. His own plate was full of a mix of meat and noodles.

"Your sarcasm is as biting as ever," Krista said, tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

"I pride myself on discount humor."

"Hey," Krista held up a kernel. "Catch."

Connie tilted his head back. The popcorn bounced off of his nose and rolled to the floor. Krista sighed. She just wasn't as in sync with him as she was with Ymir.

"When are you going to introduce us to Ymir?" Petra asked. "You two are close. It'd be like she's meeting the family!"

"Ymir?" Connie repeated. "You're friends with her? I'm pretty sure she hates my guts."

"Becuase she has good taste."

"Then why's she friends with you?" Connie countered.

"Both of you, isn't that enough?"

Petra looked at them with a concerned gaze. "We roast each other because it's how millennials show love." Connie shrugged.

"I'm a millennial too, and I certainly don't do that." Petra shook her head.

"Yeah, but you're a baby boomer at heart - that doesn't count," Connie pointed his fork at her.

Petra scowled at him. "Connie."

"Ok, but for real. How did you get Ymir to like you? As far as I know, she's never talked to skaters before."

"It's cause you scared her off," Krista said around a mouthful of popcorn.

"Krista can make friends with everyone!" Petra said. "I saw you talking with Annie earlier, the two of you must have hit it off. I've never seen her actually converse with others."

"She's not that bad." Krista murmured. She stared out the window of the restaurant. Street lights flickered on and off, they couldn't decide if it was dark enough to turn on for real.

"Like I said, you can make friends with anyone, even Ymir!"

Suddenly the popcorn didn't taste as good. She pushed it away and rested her chin on her hand. That word. When it came to Ymir, why did she hate that word so much? "Yeah. Friends."

The kernels in her mouth turned sour.

 

****  
SKATE AMERICA  
****

 

"I finally finished the first draft," Ymir said around a mouthful of sour patch kids.

"That's nice," Krista replied absentmindedly. Her foot bounced up and down against the floor of the rink.

"I added in the scenes we talked about."

"Wonderful."

"I've started editing it."

"Fantastic."

"I've also decided that I should set myself on fire to protest the government."

"I'm proud of you."

Ymir made a half strangled sound, choking on laughter. "I knew it. You aren't paying attention."

"What?" Krista drew her eyes up from the floor. "Of course I'm paying attention!"

"You just agreed that I should set myself on fire."

Krista hesitated. "Okay, so I'm not the most attentive at the moment. Is that a crime?"

Ymir sighed. "You can still qualify."

"I'm in third place."

"And you're about to do your free skate!" Ymir argued. "Which - by the way - is fantastic! You can gain all sorts of points back there!"

"Have you seen who's in first place?" Krista gestured to the podium. Backstage, she was forced to watch everything again through the screen of a TV. 

The second day of her second Prix competition. This was her last shot to rank high enough to get into the Final. Right now, that dream was on the edge of a cliff.

"You don't have to be first. Just stay on the podium, and you should be fine!" Ymir gestured with an open palm, begging Krista to take her eyes off of the program.

"So you admit I can't beat her." Krista's voice dropped an octave.

"That's not what I meant." Ymir snapped.

"She's good. The best." Krista said slowly. "It's ok to admit that she has me beat."

"So? She may be ranked number one junior skater in the world, but she's lost before. She can loose again!" Krista gave her an annoyed look. Ymir bit her lip, trying to grab onto the right words. “You won against Annie once. You can win against her too.”

“I did not ‘win against Annie. I had a lead. That I blew. And Annie may be good, but not ranked-number-one-in-the-world good.”

Ymir took a deep breath, chest falling uneasily like she was holding back a spout of anger. “I don't get it. Why do you turn to be to believe in you, then brush off anything I try to say? It isn't me you need belief from. It’s you.”

A burst of bitter laughter bubbled in Krista’s throat. “How can I believe?”

Ymir ducked her head, “She may be good: But even Mikasa Ackerman can fall.”


	9. We need to talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krista takes to the ice for what may be the last time in her life. Can she pull off the biggest upset of skating history, or will she blow her shot at the Final? 
> 
> Meanwhile, Ymir discovers that everything she'd been told about her dad's 'new projects' and 'promotion possibilities,' may only be half-truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. I'm glad I managed to get this chapter out before school starts up again. Thanks so much for your patience! As always, your comments and likes mean the world to me. We only have a few chapters left before the big finale, so buckle your seatbelts, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, and, as always, enjoy the ride.

Krista was never as confident in her free skate as she was her short program. It lacked a personal touch. She told the story of her and Ymir in her short program, but selling herself as a hero? Unlikely.

Normally, the difference wouldn’t bother her. The emotion and personality in the pieces would balance each other out. But today, she couldn’t afford any slip ups. This competition was her make or break. Her competitors were literally the best in the world. Where Annie lacked feeling, Mikasa had both the technicality and the heart. 

It was a double edged sword that killed anyone she went up against. 

In less than five minutes, Krista would have one chance to prove she wasn’t the next victim. 

Coach Drain clasped his hands around her shoulders. She flexed her fingers to stay warm. “You don’t have to come in first. This is a good program, good enough to get you on the podium. If you can stay there, you’ll get into the Final.”

Krista nodded. Most of his words had gone in one ear and out the other, but she had to try to pay attention. Try to absorb some of what he said. “Don’t get distracted. Focus, and keep your eye on the prize,” he finished. 

She took a final sip from her water bottle. “Got it.” 

Coach stepped back. Ymir pulled Krista into a hug. “Good luck.”

“You’ll watch, won’t you?”

“Dad has something going on. We won’t be able to stay for the rest of the skates or the award ceremony, but I’ll be watching you.”

Krista’s heart sank. It wasn't fair for her to expect Ymir to be around twenty-four seven, especially when her schedule relied on someone else, but bitterness sank into her stomach. Krista wouldn’t know if she qualified for the Grand Prix Final until hours after Skate America, when the scores of all the Grand Prix competitors had been received and tallied. Could she manage the wait alone?

“Alright.” She said. “I’ll see you-”

She broke off. If Ymir wasn't sticking around, there was no way of knowing when they would cross paths again. If Krista didn’t make it to the GPF, she would never skate again. Which meant….she might never see Ymir.

“I'll see you in the Final.” Ymir finished. 

Krista fought the small smile crossing her face. “Right. I’ll see you at the Final.”

***********

Everything was different. Unfamiliar. On the ice of the Rostelecom Cup, people were on her side, cheering her on. Here, no one wanted her to win. 

This rink was downright hostile.

Mikasa wasn't just the best skater. She the best liked. Her fans transcended borders, transcended countries, transcended nations. 

What made it worse? This was supposed to be Krista’s home court. This was the Skate America. She was the American national skater. But looking at the stands and banners, tee-shirts and signs, she wouldn’t have guessed she was home. 

Mikasa was a legend. She had the grace and poise of a ballerina, explosive action of a BMX biker, and the talent of the senior league pros. To beat her, one needed a miracle.

That was what Krista hoped for. Her own little miracle. 

She was in second place. Sure, if she stayed there, she would be fine, but she wasn’t going to play it safe. Sure, second place was grand. But what if she pushed her way to first? People knew her as the upset skater, the underdog somehow emerged on top. What if they knew her as the one who beat Mikasa Ackerman?

All she had to do was try a little harder. Push a little farther. 

Do whatever it takes to win. 

The music started. To be first, she needed a flawless routine. Every jump, spin, and movement had to be as textbook as she could make them. The moves had to be perfectly calculated.

The stands were eerily quiet, The audience wasn't watching her. More like they were engaging her in a stand-off. A stare down. Hundreds of eyes glared down. Those closest to the ice held their signs a little higher, reading “Mikasa destroys su casa.”

What a dumb slogan. Mikasa wasn't Spanish. 

Krista pushed the thoughts away. Focus. She needed to focus. The first jump down, five to go. Was that the best she could do? The jump had height, the landing was clean, but was it enough?

She listened to the crescendo of the music. Violins, piano, the whole nine yards. Such a fast paced and epic soundtrack required an epic skate. Krista had to deliver. 

Right now, the important thing was becoming one with her character. A brave warrior princess - Did she want to be a princess? She was going to be a princess. To sell the story, she couldn’t skate as Krista Lenz. She had to be someone else. An ideal version of herself.

She had to become Historia. 

It required full effort, full focus. Her mind kept slipping away. The music took her back to a night in the middle of Russia. To story-writing, late night movies, popcorn, and a warmth budded in her heart. 

Focus on the skate, her brain yelled. Find Ymir, her heart argued back. 

Her concentration faltered. Her focus slipped. She gritted her teeth and tried to reset her mind. 

This jump, right here. She had to nail it. 

She pushed off the ice. Good height, good timing, but did she have enough speed? For the jump to be perfect she needed three rotations. Her heart skipped a beat. Krista only had enough momentum for two. 

There was no backing down. Changing the triple into a double could be her downfall. One rotation. Two rotations. She pushed a third. 

It was a mistake. The spiral wasn't tight enough. Her feet came out from her body. She landed on one foot, the ice spraying up in a flash of powder. The world turned sideways.She slammed into the ground. A hushed gasp settled over the crowd. 

Krista shoved herself back to her feet. So, she'd fallen. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but she swallowed them. The music doesn't stop because you didn't stick a landing, she chided herself. 

The show must go on. 

Her shoulder ached. Coach yelled something from the sideline of the rink. Was he angry? Upset? She couldn't tell. The only thing that mattered was finishing her program without any more errors. 

She'd missed her chance. Krista forced a smile on her face, heart sinking. She'd reached too far. Hadn't Coach warned her? She hadn’t just pushed her luck. She’d led it to a fifty-foot cliff and thrown it over.

A missed jump was costly to her scores. 

She finished without any more upsets, but the performance was lackluster. Krista didn't have to look at the scores to know. Her spot on the podium was in serious jeopardy. 

"Krista." Coach Drain inhaled sharply, hands on his hips. 

"I know," she said. "I fell down. I screwed up. Can we skip over that part?"

Coach grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back as she tried to walk away. "Yes, you fell. But you got back up. That alone is priceless."

More like worthless. Krista kept the comment to herself, but the look in her eye said it all. Coach Drain let go of her shoulder. "Is your ankle okay?"

Krista flexed it. "I'm fine."

Landing on one foot was one of the biggest hazards of skating. Krista hadn't done it on purpose, but that hardly mattered. When the only thing supporting you on a slippery surface was a blade the size of a piece of paper, even the smallest twist could snap a bone. "Are you sure?"

"I guess I got lucky." Krista shrugged.

"Hmm. Luck won't last forever. We'll work on your landing when we train again." 

As they made their way to the Kiss and Cry, Coach fell silent. Krista didn't know what to expect from her scores. Hardly a first place trophy, but surely it wasn't so bad she fell to fifth or sixth place?

Mikasa was in first place, and she was the only skater left. The chances of her falling from first to second were slim. Whatever Krista’s rank was now, it wouldn’t change. 

This was her make it or break it moment.

Her parent’s words echoed in her ears.

_“Qualify for the Grand Prix Final or terminate your career as a figure skater.”_

A scratching record, it played on repeat, a threat and a promise that made her skin crawl. She shook her head, but the voices didn’t clear. With each pulse of her heart the words strengthened, louder, faster, until her fingers scratched down the sides of her ears as if she could tear the sentence out with pure force.

_“Qualify for the Grand Prix Final or terminate your career as a figure skater.”_

_“Qualify for the Grand Prix Final or terminate your career as a figure skater.”_

Qualify or die, that was the truth, wasn’t it? She couldn’t live without skating. Without…..without seeing Ymir again. 

What if this was how they said goodbye?

Krista’s chest constricted. A ball of tears choked her airway, tearing at her throat as she swallowed. 

_“Qualify for the Grand Prix Final or terminate your career as a figure skater.”_

Her parent’s voices hummed together, blending into white noise that turned her stomach inside out.

“The scores for Krista Lenz are in.” The booming intercom shattered the illusion. Everything ground to a halt. Cameras stopped flashing. The crowd hushed. Krista’s heartbeat echoed through the silence.

The announcer paused. 

Her future flashed before her eyes.

Flying home in defeat, hiding the puffy, tingling red of her teary irises with eye drops, suitcase - covered in stickers and tags from each city she’d visited - stuffed in the overhead compartment. Trading in her elaborate hair pieces for subtle pieces jewelry, her skates for sleek black pumps. Throwing her team USA jacket in the back of a closet in Kansas, letting it settle with dust and mothballs, and donning a blazer for her first day of business college. 

The sharp skylines of New York, Barcelona, Moscow, London faded into Polaroid pictures she taped to the wall of her first cubical. The screeching of microphone feedback toned down to the light drum of elevator music. Chants and screams of fans became the robotic voice of a pre-recorded “Please hold,” phone line. 

Coach Drain’s speed dial? Deleted, to make room for the new most important person in her life. Her internship boss, Dave. Forget weekend plane rides to Prague for competitions, her commute was the forty-five-minute crawl of traffic. 

Who could live like that?

The announcer cleared his throat. Krista snapped back to reality. Too late, she’d already missed the announcement of her score. But that wasn't what mattered. Not to her, not right now. “She is currently in third place, with one skater remaining.”

“Coach-”

He held out a hand to silence her. “I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. With skin so pale, his veins glowed blue, his nerves showed. “I don’t know if third place will be good enough to get you into the Final.”

She swallowed. It was only one place. She’d only fell one rank, and since Mikasa was already ahead of her, Krista wouldn’t fall another place. She tried to stay positive, but a harsh voice in the back of her mind whispered she wouldn’t move up a rank either.

The voice sounded like her parents.

*********

 

She had no interest in watching Mikasa skate. Whether live, sitting in the stands, or backstage on the TV, Krista would rather watch the Emoji Movie on repeat while purging the glamorized emoticons from her phone.

“You better not be looking at news headlines,” Coach Drain warned. 

Her phone waivered, thumb pausing from her absent-minded scrolling. A guilty smile flickered over her lips. “I….”

“Save it.” Coach sighed. “I know you want to know as soon as possible if you've qualified, but it’s too soon to tell.”

Krista set her phone back at her side. How long would it take them to calculate the scores? To know for sure who would advance and who wouldn’t? A few hours, maybe. 

She turned to ask Ymir. The question died in her throat.

Ymir wasn’t there. 

Why would she? Ymir couldn’t stick around after Krista skated. What was her dad doing that was so important she had to leave early? And why was it more important than Krista? She shoved the last thought away. Ymir had her own life. It wasn’t fair to expect her to drop everything. It wasn’t unfair, it was unhealthy. 

Maybe some distance was for the best. 

Coach Drain turned away. While he wasn’t looking, Krista snatched her phone. It wasn’t like she was a terrible student - She wasn’t planning on looking at the news about HER. But if she wasn’t watching Mikasa skate, she needed something to pass the time, and there was another skater who she hadn’t heard from.

Annie Leonhardt. Her first place win at the Rostelecom Cup was a perfect cushion. No score could guarantee you a spot in the Final, but better first than second. Annie’s second competition had been last week. Krista hadn’t had the chance to see where her - Friend? Rival? - had placed in the Internationaux de France. 

Second. 

Annie ranked second.

Krista smiled. Even giants fell. 

***********

“Dad.” Ymir leaned over the driver’s seat. He clutched the wheel, knuckles white. He hadn’t told Ymir they had to leave Skate America early until a few minutes before it started, and he refused to say why. Every time she tried to talk to him, he flinched. He hadn’t looked her in the eye since they’d gotten in the car, hadn’t said a word except to tell her she couldn’t sit shotgun. 

Maybe that was the strangest thing of all. Mike piled luggage in the seat next to him. Since when did he prefer the company of stained briefcases and decade old suitcases to that of his own daughter? Humiliating as being banished to the backseat was, Ymir refused to give in.   
“What is it?” 

Everything about his words was wrong. Calculated. Practiced. Like he had to focus on keeping his tone even. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Mike pulled at his collar. “Mind if I roll down a window?”

She swung her hand dismissively. “I’m not an idiot-”

“Of course you aren’t! You had a fabulous GPA.”

“-I know when you’re hiding something from me. You’ve been acting strange all night.”

“How so?”

“You ended a phone call with your boss by saying “love you too.’” The car nearly swerved off the road. Ymir grabbed the hand hold for dear life as her dad wrested the vehicle back into their lane.

“I did what?” 

“Not to mention, the silent treatment. You’re not subtle.”

Mike groaned. He rubbed his under eyes, which were puffier than normal. Purple ringlets, dark enough to be mistaken for bruises, dyed his skin. “I can’t talk about it now-”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Ymir, please!” The outburst sent their car swerving again. He took a few deep breaths, forcing his voice back to a normal volume, before continuing. “I’ll tell you later. Please, drop it for now.”

Normally, Ymir didn’t believe in ‘dropping the subject.’ She either got what she needed from the conversation instantly or pushed further until she did. But this wasn’t normal. Everything about today chalked up to bad news - really bad news. Your-entire-family-died-on-a-plane-crash kind of bad. 

She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

Ymir buried her nose into her phone. Typical millennial. Most teens spent time on their phones texting, or on facebook, or youtube. Sure, she took part in those things. But this was something else. 

A pit of guilt sank into her stomach. ‘Document last edited ten days ago,’ flashed in gray letters over the page of her writing app. Whoops. She hadn’t meant for her story to get away from her, but with the Grand Prix and Krista and her dad’s shenanigans, she hadn’t had time to sit down and write.

Until now.

The first draft was done. In fact, the second one was too. The grammar, spelling, and mechanics were all fixed. Now, it was time for the nitty gritty revising. 

She buried herself in her writing.

The roar of the engineer, the rocking of the road beneath her, the light radio chatter pouring from the speakers - it all faded to gray. 

*******  
The car rolled to a stop. 

Ymir looked up. At least an hour had passed. She’d edited a chunk of dialogue, the characters talking about the Grand Prix.

Which reminded her, “Hey, Dad.” Ymir swung her door open. “What should I wear to the Grand Prix Final? You always said it was fancier than the other skates-”

“Ymir-” 

She cut him off. No one got to interrupt her when she was speaking. “-So I know I can’t wear jeans or anything-”

“Ymir-”

“-But when you say fancy, do you mean dress pants and top type fancy? Or skirt type fancy? Or ‘bust out the cocktail dresses and prom gowns’ type fancy-”

“Ymir-”

“-Because I hate wearing dresses and-”

“Ymir!” Her dad snapped.

With a jolt, she came to her senses. Ymir knew this place. The slightly worn, but still bright markings on the parking lot, the tall polished building, complete with a broadcasting antenna. Four glowing letters cut through the dark, spelling out E-S-P-N.

“Why are we at the station?” She asked.

“Ymir, we need to talk.”


	10. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir finds out what Mike needed to say and Krista is left to pick up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a little short, and I'm sorry about that, but I didn't want to make anyone wait more than they had to. With school starting again, I don't know when I can update next, so I wanted to get this out ASAP. I'd say enjoy but....well, you'll see.

“‘We need to talk?’” Ymir asked. “What, is this a cliche teen drama now?” The joke died in her throat. Worry, terror, even tears crumpled together in a growing lump. 

“Ymir, you know how I’ve been working for a promotion at work?” Mike hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. His weight shifted from his toes to his heels, toes, heels, toes, heels, toes.

She tore her gaze away. Watching him made her dizzy.

“Yeah, you said if you worked hard, you might be promoted from Junior league to Seniors,”

“Things didn’t turn out quite how I thought.” Her dad spoke deliberately, words picked like flowers from a thesaurus. “I’m prefacing this by saying it’s a good thing. It’s always a good thing, and in the long run, it’ll be better for us.”

Her heartrate sped up. Generally, if someone had to specify it was a good thing, it was not, in fact, a good thing

“I got a promotion. It’s a little bigger than we thought.”

Ymir waited. And waited. When the explanation finally came, she was left fumbling for her phone. It wasn’t often a writer was left without words to describe a situation. But as Ymir pulled Krista’s contact up, she was speechless.

************

Thank God it wasn’t FaceTime. Krista shoved a hand through her hair. The blond strands were dirty, messy, and knotted beyond repair. She hadn't slept in…..too long. Her vision was blurring, puffy circles darkened underneath. Her tank top was stained with Cheeto dust. 

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. The lights flashed white and blue. A familiar name and face filled the screen. Krista’s hands shook as she picked it up. It had been over an hour, but adrenaline still inflated her veins. She hadn’t been sure who to tell first, but now the decision was made for her.

"Ymir!"

"Hey," If it weren't for the adrenaline in her veins, Krista would recognize that Ymir sounded exhausted. Not in the way a runner was after a race, or Krista after a competition. Tired as if her emotions, her heart, her soul, were taken through a washing machine and left on high. Shredded, every bit of energy was used to pick up the pieces.

That was the kind of tired that sank in Ymir's voice.

It wasn't until the call was over that Krista would manage to hear it.

"Guess what?" Krista said. "I have big news!"

"So do I," 

"Has your dad told you already? Do you know the results?" Krista's words spilled out of her mouth like water.

"Er....no. He hasn't received the scores yet."

"I got in!" Krista shouted. She couldn't help the way her voice rose in pitch, but her excitement was jet fuel. If she tried, Krista bet she could launch herself to the moon.

"I'm glad," Ymir said. "You deserve it."

"You'll be there to watch, won't you?" She'd gotten this far by finding Ymir's face in the crowd. No matter what, no matter how hostile the rink was, or if she was the outsider, Ymir would cheer her on.

"I think I should share my news." Ymir gulped, loud enough for the speakers to pick it up.

That was what pulled Krista back to earth. Something was wrong, wasn't it? Ymir's answers were too short. Distant, she wasn't focused on their conversation. Like there was something she wanted to get over with.

"What's going on?"

"I won't be at the Final."

A choked sob gasped from the other end of the line. Krista could almost see Ymir pulling the collar of her shirt over her mouth to hide the tears.

"You....won't be there?" Krista said. "I don't understand. You're always there. We promised we'd cheer each other on no matter what."

"My dad got reassigned, okay?" Ymir snapped. Anger shook her voice. "I didn't ask for it to happen! They're switching him over to cover golf in a week."

"Golf?" A dry laugh bubbled in Krista's throat. Tears leaked over her eyes. "You'd rather watch old people in khakis than me?"

"I didn't ask for this to happen!" Ymir sniffed, a shaky inhale breaking her voice. "I didn't know until an hour ago!"

Freezing cold spread over Krista's chest. Icy fingers frosted her heart and rib cage, blurring her vision. The world ground to a halt. A shot of pure anesthesia, that's what Ymir's words were. Krista couldn't feel anything, physical or emotional. Nothing but numbness.

"We promised." 

"No one asked me if this was what I wanted! Nobody gave me a say." Ymir never cried. As long as Krista knew her, she'd never shed a single tear. Not when talking about her mom, or her home life, or what kids at school would say to her in the hallways. 

“I need you there!”

“I’m not a genie. You can skate just as well whether I’m in the crowd or not. Why do I matter that much?”

Krista drew a shaky breath. How else could she tell Ymir? What other words were there to say besides, “Because I think…..I think I’m in love with you.”

The line went dead.

**********

"I thought you would be more excited." Coach Drain tapped the window of the cab aimlessly. Since Skate America was in New York, it had made the most sense for them to take a taxi to and from the rink. Krista wished they'd flown instead. It was easier to subtly ignore someone on a plane. On a long car ride, it was much harder to plug in headphones and zone out.

They’d stayed through the entirety of the competition, including the Senior skates. The Grand Prix Final results were revealed halfway through, and shortly after that….well….Krista didn’t want to relive that disaster.

"I'm excited," Krista argued, but the words fell flat.

"Right," Coach raised an eyebrow. "That tone is so convincing"

Krista folded her arms. She pointedly turned the volume up on her phone. "Hey." Coach tugged the cord of her earbuds, pulling them out. Krista tried to snatch them back, but he held them out of reach. "This is your dream, isn't it? To qualify for the Final?"

Krista grumbled in agreement. Coach wouldn’t let it go. "Then why are you acting like your dog just died?"

"I don't have a dog." Rule number one in the Lenz household. If it wasn't useful, it wasn't allowed. The rule went for cats, dogs, birds, hampsters, fish and boy (or girl) friends.

Krista never understood the last one until now.

She wasn't sad. It was more like a dullness that zapped her energy and ate her from the inside out. Like a shot of pure novocaine straight to her heart. A weight tied to her heart that drug her into the depths of her thoughts. She wanted to be alone. To run up to her apartment, turn the lights off, and curl in bed for hours. Screw skating. Screw practice. Screw press conferences and....and screw Ymir.

A fresh batch of hot tears welled in her eyes. Krista wiped them away before Coach saw. It had taken her half an hour to scrub her face clean after the first round of sobbing. She didn't need to do it again.

"Did someone say something?" Coach pressed. "I know some of the competitors you've met aren't exactly the nicest. That Annie girl-"

"Annie's fine!" Krista snapped. "At least she's honest. She's dependable."

She could see the gears swirling in Coach's head. Deducing, calculating. She'd given away too much information with her last outburst. Would he figure out the truth?

Krista wasn't even sure what the truth was herself. Was she mad at Ymir for not making it to the Final? Mad because she hung up? How could Krista be angry with someone just because they didn't return her feelings? In what world was that fair?

No, it wasn't Ymir she was mad at. It was herself. She should have known the risk to confession. It's why so many kept their feelings to themselves. In thoughtlessly speaking her mind, Krista had risked destroying their friendship. She wasn't mad at Ymir, but herself, for speaking without thinking and destroying their friendship.

It was her own fault.

Rejection stung. But losing her friend hurt more.

"Whatever it is," Coach said, "You have one week to snap out of it."

Krista's head jerked up. "Snap out of it?"

"Out of this. This attitude. I don't know what's going on with you, and frankly, I don't think I want to know. But if you keep this up, when you skate in the Final, it will translate to the ice."

Krista narrowed her eyes.

"Are you listening to me?" Coach snapped. "Keep this up, and when it matters the most, you will fail. Half of athletics is overcoming mental blocks. Understand?"

Krista turned back to the window. It was going to be a long drive.

*********

"Mike's not covering skating anymore?" Annie was difficult to understand. Besides the accent, Annie spoke in a low voice, soft, as if she was scared of being overheard. Krista couldn't be sure, but based on the background nosie of running water and slamming doors, it sounded like she was in a bathroom stall.

Krista relayed all the information she had, from Ymir leaving Skate America early all the way to their fight. When she finished, Annie was quiet. If it weren't for the sound of a sink turning on and off in the background, she would have thought Annie had hung up on her too.

Why had she called Annie? Of course, her normal outlet was decidedly absent. With Ymir out of the picture, Krista only had a few close friends. Sasha would have made light of the situation and Connie would have had a million jokes, but Krista wasn’t in the mood to laugh. She rather die than tell Reiner, and her parents certainly wouldn't care.

Annie would listen. Krista was sure of that.

"She hung up on you? Without a word?" Annie said. Her line kept cutting in and out. "That's cold."

"I know." Krista sighed. She flopped against her bed. Somehow she'd managed to survive the taxi ride back to her apartment. She still wasn't in the mood to socialize, but it felt good to get things off her chest. "What should I do?"

"Do?"

"Maybe I should apologize. Or should I try to explain it?" Krista wondered. "Maybe if I say I accidentally ate some fermented watermelon and got drunk, she'd forgive me."

"That is the least believable story you could tell," Annie snorted.

"Well, then what?"

"My honest advice?" Annie paused. A hand dryer whirled to life in the distance. "Delete her number. Forget her."

"Delete her number?" Krista squeaked. In a million years, she never would have dreamed of cutting things off with Ymir.

"It's for the best. She treated you like trash. She didn't bother to say 'not interested,' or 'no thanks,' she just hung up the line. You don't deserve that. Someone who treats you like that doesn't deserve the time of day, much less memory space on your phone."

"But-"

"Trust me," Annie said. "If she was who you thought she was, would she have hung up?"

Krista paused. Was it true? Could it really be that Ymir was just a fake? Had Krista really fallen for a fraud?

"Annie?" Something pounded on the bathroom door. "Bist du da drin? Es ist schon eine ewigkeit her!"

Annie yelped. "That's my dad. I've got to go, I've already used too much training time up. With the Final coming up, he's harsher than ever. I'll see you soon, Krista."

As the call ended, a million thoughts clouded her mind. 

With a deep breath, she opened her contacts. With a swipe and a push, she tapped the red ‘delete’ button.


	11. Grand Prix Final: Time to take the ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While dealing with a turmoil of emotions, Krista has to rely on friends, old and new, to get her back on her feet - literally AND metaphorically - in time for the Grand Prix Final.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the end! Exciting, exciting. I expect one, MAYBE two, chapters after this, depending on how I decide to break up the last chunk of scenes. As always, if you enjoyed, please leave a comment, kudos, or share with your friends! 
> 
> PS: Do any of you like Boku No Hero Academia? I made a side-blog on Tumblr for it, if anyone wants the URL.

Grand Prix Final  
Day 1

 

“The reporters this year will be easier to ignore,” Annie suggested. “Mike was nosy and in-your-face. He didn’t give you space to breathe.”

“Yeah,” Krista leaned back in her chair. Annie was trying to cheer her up, but she wasn’t in the mood. Annie’s words hurt more than they helped, but how should Annie know Krista’d first met Ymir because Mike was so abrasive?

The programs wouldn’t start for another hour or two, but between the reporters stalking outside and the unfriendly crowd waiting inside, there wasn’t anywhere else for them to go besides the off-limits, competitors only, backstage area. Both Annie’s father and Coach Drain were giving brief interviews outside. Krista shuddered at the thought. She would be expected to give a post-skate statement to the press, but if it wasn’t Mike, why should she bother?

Krista’s phone lit up. Rapid vibrations joined her ringtone. “Who's calling?” Annie strained her neck to catch a glimpse of the screen. 

“No one.” Krista turned the phone off and slid it into her jacket. 

It wasn’t ‘no one.’ Contrarily, it was a very important someone. Her information had once been on speed dial, now it was reduced to nothing more than a ‘This number is not in your contacts list. Mark as spam?’ message.

“She’s still trying to call you?” Annie scrunched her eyebrows together. If German Shepards could sniff out bombs, Annie could sniff out a lie. 

“I haven’t answered,” Krista held up her hands. 

“Block the number.” 

Krista chewed her lip. She didn’t want to admit to Annie, but blocking the number was too extreme. A tiny voice in the back of her head kept whispering, ‘What if? What if? What if?’

“Has she left any voicemails?” 

“Yes.” Ten in the last two days, to be exact. “I haven’t listened to any of them.”

“Good. Don’t. Her excuses will only confuse you more.”

“You know an awful lot about breakups. How many have you gone through?”

Annie tapped her chin. “Three? Four? Well, one was in third grade, so I don’t think that counts.”

“Third grade?” Krista had to hold back a laugh. 

“I’m serious! My friend Jean asked me to marry him. He was an exchange student but he had to go back to France, so we divorced.”

Krista let out a low whistle. “You sly dog. You never struck me as a hit it and quit it kind of girl.”

A rosy blush crept onto Annie’s face. “We were in third grade!” She protested. 

“I bet you broke his heart, didn’t you?”

“We still talk to each other! It’s not like I cut him off. He’s a skater, too. He might be here today.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Footsteps cut the conversation short. “What are you two talking about?” Coach Drain stood with his hands on his hips, a half smile on his face.

“Annie’s ex-husband.”

A confused look flashed between his eyes. Coach Drain turned and walked out without another word. 

“That’s not how I would have put it.” Annie shrugged. 

“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…” Krista trailed off. A brief smile flickered over her face.

She missed having useless banter in her life. There was something about responding to a person just for the sake of humor that always lifted her spirits. She hadn't had such a good time since....since Ymir left.

And just like that, Krista was back to square one. Like tearing open a scab, all she could think about was the rejection. How could the nonexistence of something hurt so much?  
"What's wrong?" Annie noticed Krista's smile fade.

"This is all a distraction, isn't it?" Krista laughed. It was humorless and hurt to release. "I mean, you covered it up well, but you're trying to move me on."

Annie opened her mouth, closed it, and glared at the floor. " I couldn't let you wallow in misery."

Krista stood and dusted off her jacket. "It doesn't matter," she waved a dismissive hand. "I should probably go find out what my coach wanted."

"Krista-" She was halfway through the doors before Annie could finish her sentence.

*****  
"Ready?"

"Not for an interview, if that's what you're asking." Krista sat next to Coach. There were no reporters around - yet. The air brimmed with anticipation. People buzzing to get the next hot news story, the newest headline. Krista doubted they would find it in the junior ice skating league, but who was she to judge?

Everyone had a dream. Just like she dreamed of making it big on the ice, someone out there dreamed of making it big in journalism. 

"They finished with us ages ago," Coach Drain dissmissed it. “They're off to bigger and brighter fields now." 

"The seniors?"

"They have an exciting line-up for the Final." Coach ticked off his fingers one by one as he listed the names. "Hanji, Reiner, Bertoldt, a really short guy named Levi who came out of nowhere-"

"I've seen him. He always looks pissed off." 

"I'd wager that's because he is." 

A question trickled in the back of her mind. "Was it different? When you made it into Final, I mean."

"The reporters were different, that's for sure. They didn't use as much film, so the interviews tended to be longer. Reporters would write down anything of interest you said, and sometimes, you could talk for an awfully long time before they found something to their liking."

"How did you feel about your skate?"

“How I felt and how I did are two separate questions.” Coach flexed his ankle. “Especially my first year.”

“You qualified more than once?” Krista hadn’t known for sure if he had been in the Grand Prix - much less the Final. She’d taken a shot in the dark.

“I qualified three times. Once as a Junior, twice as a Senior - but I never got to the third Final.” He tapped the scar tissue of his ankle.

"Do you think I have what it takes?" Krista couldn't imagine getting used to this feeling. The way everything rested on a few minutes, how her skill was evaluated on an international stage with no pretense.

"You have tough competition, but you've had tough competition before. You managed then too."

"I didn't manage to beat them."

"Sometimes it isn't about trying to beat someone. Some of the best results I've had came when I stopped focusing on surpassing someone else and focused on showing what I could do. Just think, Krista. Where were you this time last year? You couldn't even jump a quad. Now, it's your signature move. You pushed the limits and learned from your mistakes. You created a beautiful story where there was none before."

The story. Her short program. Her heart plummeted again. That was no story that she created, it was a retelling of her real life. When she thought she'd been in love. Now, what was left to tell? The story had ended, pure and simple, and it wasn't an ending anyone was interested in hearing.

No one wanted to hear a sob story.

"What's with the sour expression?" Coach raised an eyebrow. "I thought you liked your short program."

"I used to." There were too many reminders of her mistakes. Of the ‘what could have been’. The ‘what if's’ that haunted her sleep night in and night out.

Even the quad. Though Coach thought it was a compliment, the quad was the biggest salt in the wound of them all. Krista wouldn’t have mastered it without the help of her friend. Friend, yeah, that was what she should say. Better friend than a name that stung her veins. Better friend than a bitter acknowledgment.

Friend was a word she could use without reopening the wound. Krista had been led on.. She looked for signs that weren’t there. Better to say a friend than saying she’d made a mistake.

“Just play your game.” Coach advised. “Don't get in your own head.”

“Easy for you to say.” He wasn’t the one who went through the wringer. It wasn’t his heart or his dreams on the line.

“It isn't easy. It’s never easy. But if it was easy, then what would be the point in trying? If everyone had the qualities of the best, then no is superior. I I ask you to do hard things, but it’s because you can do them. Every challenge you face pushes you to new heights. Whatever it is that’s bothering you now, you can push past it too.”

For the sake of the medals, Krista hoped she could too.

******

It still hurt

No matter what Annie or Coach Drain said, it still hurt.

As Krista pulled her skating dress on, she pictured the growing mass of her costumes at home. She didn't tell very many people that she'd kept each and every one of her outfits. Ymir was the exception. Within twenty-four hours of knowing her, Ymir made her comfortable enough to share that mortifying detail.

God, there really was no escaping her, was there?

Krista took a deep breath and straightened out the folds of her dress. The locker room was otherwise empty. Krista had changed quite early, but the locker room was one of the only true areas she could be alone.

She'd excused herself from her earlier conversation, telling Coach she should get started on her makeup. He let her go without a question, though there was a look in his eyes that made Krista wonder if he bought her story. Sure, makeup could take a while, but Coach probably noticed she was leaving early.

Krista didn't have the heart to tell him the truth: That right now, talking to him - talking to anyone - was exhausting.

Why was it that emotions were so closely tied to energy? As Krista set down her makeup bag, the thought crossed her mind. When someone was excited, they were hyper and ready to bounce off the walls. Sadness, on the other hand, sucked energy from the owner like a black hole.

The stroke of brushes against her face helped calm her down. It wasn't happy, but it was routine. Something Krista could rely on….Unlike some people.

Makeup wouldn't leave her high and dry when she needed it most. That was, if she had twenty-four-hour stay proof foundation - 

Oh God. She was losing it. Was she shading her best friend via makeup? The mood soured again, tears springing to her eyes. She couldn't cry. Not here, not now. Her makeup had to be perfect when she took the ice, and if she cried now, everything would smear. She lunged for a kleenex to mop up the mess before it got out of hand, dabbing under her eyes. Black dots speckled the tissue.

"Don't." A hand grabbed her wrist and pulled the tissue back. "Don't try to clean it up now."

Annie.

Krista hadn’t heard her come in, but when their eyes met in the mirror, the tight bun and thin smile were unmistakable. Why was she here? The girl's locker room was off limits to non-competitors, including coaches. It was almost always empty. The perfect place to go when you needed to get away. For a moment, Krista wondered if she wasn't the only one who found solace between the windowless brick walls.

“I can’t let the streaks mess up my face,” Krista lifted the wipe back to her cheeks. Annie’s fingers tightened on her wrist.

“It’ll be easier to clean up when it’s dry. And if you try to hold your tears back, they’ll only come back worse.” Annie still wore her warm-ups, a few stains coated the jacket and pants from years of wear. They weren’t nice clothes, not like the skating dresses, so when Krista buried her face in Annie’s shoulder, she had no reason to hold back her tears.

*******  
This was it.

Krista exhaled, shifting her weight from foot to foot. The ice caught the blades of her skates, steadying her. Why hadn’t the music started yet? Did it always take this long to start? Was there some sort of problem with the audio? Was there an issue with her songs? Had someone claimed copyright infringement? Was she disqualified? 

Questions fluttered through her head at the speed of her heartbeat. Zooming past so fast she could hardly catch a glimpse of them before they vanished, Krista swallowed a growing lump in her throat. This was the most nervous she’d ever been. And for good reason: This was the biggest skate in her life. 

Finally, the speakers blared to life. Music shattered the stadium.

Just like we practiced, Krista chanted. Just like we practiced, just like we practiced. Go through the motions, play your sport. 

But this wasn't practice. 

Ignoring the neon-lighted differences between practice and the Grand Prix Final, Krista couldn’t find the comfortable mental state that she skated in. Focus evaded her. Not even chanting the mantra could collect her thoughts. If anything, it was distracting. Just like we practiced. Just like we practiced.

Ymir used to watch her practices. 

Not every one of them, but she showed up from time to time. Her presence, no matter how big or small, always made a difference. Ymir was the reason she learned how to jump the quad. Ymir was the face she sought out arenas hoping to see her fail. Ymir was the one who redefined Krista’s connection to her music. 

But she couldn’t search for Ymir’s face this time.

There was nothing to ground her. Krista was a speck in a sea of unforgiving faces. How many people out there just wanted to see her fail?

FOCUS.

Her thoughts were gunshots echoing in her head. The more she tried to focus, the more distracted she was. Krista couldn’t tell if she was on beat anymore. 

The quad. This was where she had to jump it, right? 

Just like she practiced. Just like she practiced, just like she practiced. 

Her knees bent. Arms tucked in, then back out. She launched through the air, spinning once, twice, three times, pushing a forth. The ice rushed up to meet her. The landing was the part that mattered most. Most falls, incomplete jumps and worse happened here. So why couldn’t she focus on it?

Her blades hit the ice. 

The landing was off. She hadn’t shifted her weight to be evenly distributed. Her ankle twisted. Her skates came out from under her and Krista plummeted to the ground.   
Fire raced up and down her leg. Throbbing pain made it hard to focus. The rink swayed in and out of focus.

She couldn’t get up.


	12. An Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krista searches for a hope in a field of gray. Meanwhile, Ymir desperately tries to explain herself. Will her audience listen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to the final chapter! It sure was a journey writing this from start to finish. I hope you enjoy the end of this wild ride.

“I’m untying your skate.” Krista registered the words, but couldn’t muster a response. Everything hurt. The lights of the trainer’s office were worse than spotlights, beating down on her so harshly she had to close her eyes. She should ask someone to turn them off, but she couldn’t form the words. 

The trainer - the onsite sports specific doctor - was a woman in her late twenties. Curly brown hair fell over her caramel eyes. An olive complexion sported a handful of freckles on her cheeks. She spoke fluent English, but there was a hint of an accent Krista couldn’t place. Eastern European, maybe. The trainer had mentioned her name, but she couldn’t remember it.

The pressure on her ankle loosened as the laces came undone. Coach Drain inhaled sharply. He sat in the corner of the room, by the door. Arms crossed tightly over his chest, he was lost in his own thoughts. Had he been through this before? 

Krista’s fingers tightened on the edge of her seat. She couldn't look at her own injury. If she did, she might puke. Biting down on her lip did little to starve the pain. “Broken,” the trainer announced. “I can't tell how badly, but it looks like a clean fracture.” 

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’ll need to go get X-rays until we know the seriousness of the break. But I don’t think the bone is shattered.” 

Shattered. It wasn't like Coach Drain’s injury. Krista exhaled in relief. Thank her lucky stars. “For now, I’m going to wrap it so it doesn't move around too much. A few other things I have to check on, and then we’ll take you to the hospital.”

“Hospital?” All her hope dried up. It sunk in that she wouldn’t - couldn’t - skate again tomorrow. A pit sank in her stomach. How could she prove to her parents that she was the best now? Was this it for her? Even if her ankle healed, she might be forced to move back to Kansas. What kind of life was that?

“Did you hit your head when you fell?” The trainer sat down on a rolling chair and pushed back to her desk. Shuffling around in a drawer, she pulled out a flashlight. 

“I don’t think so. I broke my fall with my hands.” 

“Good. At least you taught her that much.” The trainer gave Coach Drain a playful smile, but he still looked a million miles away. 

“He taught me a lot.” Krista thought back on all the improvement they’d made together. Where would she be in life if someone forced her to say goodbye to Coach? It would be like losing the only parental figure she could rely on.

“I tried to teach her not to make the same mistakes I did.” Coach Drain shoved his hands into his pockets. “I guess I wasn’t a good enough coach after all.”

“That’s not true!” Krista snapped. Her eyes widened. Coach had been there for her since the beginning. Why would he turn around on that? How could he think that he was the problem?

“Your parents thought so.” Coach gazed off into the distance. The words tumbled out haphazardly. Was he even registering their conversation? 

His comment stung. Way to add insult to injury. She remembered their agreement. She'd had sworn to qualify into the Grand Prix Final and show her parents they’d misjudged her. While she had qualified, no doubt her parents were less than impressed. It was never too late to fail in their eyes.

“Let’s go to the hospital,” Krista whispered. Defeat softened her tone as her head fell. Suddenly, it felt too heavy to hold up. It was too late to change anything now. Did it even matter if she lost her bet? She might not be able to skate ever again. 

“Yeah, one thing at a time.” The trainer forced a chipper tone. The mood in the room was as somber as a funeral, but she still tried to keep everyone positive. It was nice that she was optimistic, but Krista was having serious problems finding an “upside” to this situation. “I’ll go get a wheelchair. We don’t want to put any pressure on that break.”

Before the trainer could reach the door, it slammed open. The corner narrowly missed Coach’s arm. He jumped back. Krista tensed. The trainer let out a startled screech. “Hey! You can’t be back here!” A deep voice shouted from down the hall. 

“Sorry.” A low voice - ashamed? - said. It wasn't aimed at the guard, but at the people in front of them. 

Ymir’s hand was still on the doorknob. She bent over, wheezing as if she’d sprinted for a mile. Krista pinched her leg. This had to be a dream. How? Why? Her mind fogged over.

"What are you doing here?” Nothing made sense. Ymir should be….she had no idea where Ymir should be, but it definitely wasn’t here. 

Before Ymir could answer, the guard caught up to her. He wasn’t tall, but he had weight to throw around. He grabbed Ymir’s arms and wrested them behind her, lifting her into the air. “I’ll arrest you for trespassing!”

"Wait!” Coach Drain held out a hand. He'd aged twenty years in the past minute, looking far too tired for his own good. The dark circles under his eyes were more purple than before. “Let her go.”

“Let her go?” The guard's nose wrinkled, eyebrows furrowed incredulously. 

“We know her.”

“She’s a crazy fan!” Ymir wriggled, trying to get free. The guard lurched forward as she elbowed him in the stomach, 

“She’s a….” The word friend died in Krista’s mouth. “Just let her go.”

The guard dropped her. Ymir landed on her feet, brushing herself off dramatically. “Thank you, kind Sir,” she snapped. “Do you know who my father is?”

Krista snorted. She had to hold back a laugh. Ymir didn't deserve that kind of credit. Ymir had forced the joke. Was she trying to dispel the tension that hung over the room like smoke?

“Why are you here?” Krista forced herself to remember how Ymir had hurt her. She’d deleted her contact. Erased her from memory. Why should she give real-life Ymir any more time?

“Because of you-”

“That’s not what I meant.” Krista’s tone hardened. “You said you would always support me, but you left. How are you here? You're supposed to be halfway across the world - or was that a lie too?”

Ymir flinched. Her gaze flickered between Coach Drain and the trainer. No doubt Ymir wished they weren’t there. Too bad. If she had something to say, she could do it in front of everyone. Ymir shoved a hand through her hair. A distressed glaze crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I hadn't realized what I’d done until it was too late! I was already stressed about my dad and when you said...THAT….I...I panicked.”

“Don’t pin this one me,” Krista huffed.

“I hadn’t meant to hang up! Really, I just….I didn’t know what to say!” Ymir's hands flung to the side. 

“You, the writer? Didn't know what to say? That’s rich!” They were both getting louder. Out of the corner of her eye, Krista saw Coach Drain hold out a hand as if to stop her, but she didn’t care. Days of pent-up emotions were unleashed. She’d practiced what she’d say if she ever saw Ymir again, but she never thought it would actually happen.

“I called to tell you I couldn’t be there for you! I expected you to be mad, sure, but I didn’t expect a love confession!”

The room went silent The trainer sat rigid, wide-eyed, looking at the ceiling. This was not in her job description. 

“I trusted you,” Krista leveled her voice. Steely, she braced herself for the impact she knew her words would bring. “I told you things I never told anyone else. We were inseparable. But when it mattered most, you hung up the phone.”

“It’s not excusable!” Ymir admitted. “I’m not here for forgiveness.”

“Then why are you here?” Tears threatened to spill over her cheeks. “I’m in sixth place, I completely blew my skate, my parents might take me out of competition forever, my ankle is broken, and you think you have the right to take up more of my worries?”

Ymir looked like she’d been slapped. “All I ask is that you let me tell you what happened. No one deserves to wonder forever what they did wrong. I don’t want you to have any more what-ifs in your mind. I want to help you out.”

“Whatever you have to say, say it fast, because I don't have any more time for your games.”

“Krista, we really should get you to the hospital-” Coach Drain stepped in. Krista cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"This shouldn’t take long, should it, Ymir?”

Ymir exhaled. “I didn't mean to hang up. I panicked. Afterwards, I tried calling you again to explain but you wouldn't pick up. I went straight to voicemail every time. You wouldn’t respond to my texts and I realized the gravity of what I’d done. I had to apologize to you in person, so I…” Ymir stopped short, looking pointedly at Coach Drain. 

He stepped back and covered his ears. It did nothing to block out the sound, but to put Ymir at ease enough to finish her statement. “I stole my dad’s credit card. While he was busy with work I booked the first available flight here, called an Uber, and flew off. I didn’t text him until the plane had landed. By then it was too late for him to stop me.”

“Oh. My. God.” Krista couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “Ymir that’s ama-” She cut herself off. She was supposed to be mad, not awe-struck. Besides, Ymir had just committed a major crime. 

“I had to tell you.” Ymir scratched the back of her neck. “At the very least, I had to be here to watch you. I don’t think you could see me in the stands though.”

“You said you hung up because you panicked. Why?” If Ymir was going to give her answers, Krista wanted all of them. Not some half and half answer. The full truth. She didn't care how deep she had to dig to get it. 

“I panicked because…” Ymir took a deep breath. “Because I’d imagined that moment over and over in my head so many times, but I didn't expect it to happen like that, and when it did I thought I imagined it. I thought I was going crazy.”

“You...imagined it?” Could it be that Ymir was implying…

“I really, really like you!” Ymir blurted out. “Jesus, are you blind?”

Krista couldn’t help the laugh that rolled off her tongue. It turned into a giggle that had her helplessly bent over in a fit. “We are ridiculous.” She gasped in between laughs. “Ridiculous. We’re so dysfunctional we have to commit crimes and break bones to get together.”

Ymir grabbed the doorframe. A broad smile broke out over her cheeks. “We are terrible.” She slapped a hand over half her face. “Oh my God, I could have been arrested.”

Krista should have know better. There was no way she could stay mad at Ymir forever. Of course, this all came down to a logical - or was it illogical? - explanation. 

The trainer cleared her throat. “If we’re all cleared up here, can we take you to the hospital now?” 

Krista flexed her ankle. Right. The break. She;d almost forgotten about it in the rush of emotion. “Ymir, wanna accompany me to the ER? I might need someone’s hand to hold if the pain gets too bad.”

Ymir reached her hand out, palm up. “You can always take mine.”

In that moment, Krista didn’t know what the future held. Maybe she would get better. Maybe not. Perhaps her parents would forbid her from entering the rink again. Maybe she would be at the Final again next year. She had no clue. But it didn’t matter. As long as Ymir was with her, she could handle anything.


End file.
